I'm Katie & I'm an Anger Addict
by confessions.of.katijane
Summary: When McGonagall institutes her own form of anger management on a hottempered Katie Bell, our favorite chaser begins to use a diary to vent about all of the frustrations in her life.  Namely concerning a certain Weasley.
1. Anger Management

**A/N: I've always wanted to write a diary fic. Let me know what you think & then I'll decide whether or not to keep it up.**

11 November, 9:00

McGonagall's Office

Detention

Dear package of bound, recycled parchment:

And here I was thinking that it was Snape who gave the worst detentions in the castle. WRONG! After tonight, one can only come to the conclusion that it is in fact Minerva McGonagall who deserves that illustrious honour. Of all the rotten schemes the septuagenarian could have cooked up, she decides to force a quill and a notebook into my hands and force me to start writing in an effing _diary_?! Pardon my French, McGonagall, but what the _hell_?!

Sorry, maybe I should back up. Hi. My name is Katie Bell. The reason I'm introducing myself to an inanimate object instead of frolicking about in the common room upstairs with the rest of the idiots I call my friends is because Peeves—resident poltergeist and pest—chose to chuck a few ink pellets at me this morning during breakfast, and I decided (contrary to McGonagall's view of propriety) to defend myself. Was that _really_ that awful? I think not. However, the old wench was in a sour mood and went and gave me detention. Do you know that the Weasley twins don't even have detention tonight and I do? Now _that_ is saying something. So, then, I've decided to offer my sincerest apologies to you, package of bound recycled parchment, that you are here in McGonagall's office with me. I really feel that you would be in better use if you were still alive in the rainforest contributing to the ecosystem somewhere instead of having to have me record my—as my kind professor phrases them—"irrational lash outs" on you. Alas, here we both are. And I own you. Well…sort of. No offence, but I'm not claiming you quite yet. I've previously been opposed to diaries, having been of the opinion that they are dangerous, and for blonde pre-teens with crushes on Cedric Diggory. After all, as LeAnn so informed me the other day, "to write in a diary every day is like returning to one's own vomit." And that's how I feel.

I've just made an executive decision. You will, from here on out, function as a "thoughts book". That way, it doesn't imply any sort of commitment and I don't have to feel obligated to you. Ha ha. Just kidding. Like you actually _want_ me filling you up with my nonsense speculations on my not so terribly interesting life, coupled with my "release of pent-up emotions". As you might have guessed, that's another McGonagall-ism.

More or less, thoughts book, according to McGonagall, I have an issue with rage and instead of releasing it on the nearest person (or in this case, dead person), I am now to record my frustrations in you. Apparently it's healthier this way. Then, if I get angry and the whole castle ends up knowing it, McGonagall checks you to see if I've written. If I have, there's leniency. If not, I go to Professor Dumbledore.

What do I think of this idea? Well, I shall tell you. It's a load of rubbish. I'll bet you ten sickles that McGonagall's dishing out her own form of release on me. I'd wager even higher that her own diary is a collection of venting about her unrequited love for Professor Dumbledore because he's gay. Ha ha.

Oh, what joy. My time of captivity has ended.

XXX

Later

11:30 P.M.

My Bed

To my dear thoughts book:

I'm having another moment. Supposed best friend and room mate Alicia Anne Spinnet is laying on her bed, pretending to be enraptured with this month's issue of _Teenage Witch_ whilst twirling her perfect blonde hair around her left index finger. She's really trying to bait me. She's just doing it to show off her lovely golden hair and remind me that mine's the colour of dried cat feces. Everyone thinks she's too innocent to do something like that, but I know better. I know the workings of her twisted little mind. She dreams about shagging our old quidditch captain Oliver Wood. I know. I read her diary. Ha ha.

In other news, I returned to the common room to find my five friends plotting a "Let's Make Fun of Katie" night. "Let's Make Fun of Katie" night happens at least once a week and is primarily orchestrated by George Weasley. Granted, his twin Fred helps quite a bit, but it's usually George. Why does he enjoy torturing me so much? Easy. He's a bastard. Tonight, I can safely say that it was _all_ George as Angelina and Fred have gone and decided to make idiots of themselves by openly declaring their relationship status. I can't decide how I feel about all of this. For one, it will be nice to get a break from all the nights Angelina comes back to the dorms tousle haired, then puffy eyed the next night because Fred has shagged her and then decided to ignore her. Well, I guess I don't _actually _know if Fred is shagging her. I sincerely hope not. One, that's disgusting, and two, friends should remain friends. Shouldn't they?!

ANYWAY. The reason I'm not a fan of "Frangelina" (other than the fact that I can now see them doing the dirty in public) is because of Lee Jordan. Lee's our other friend and he's head over heels for Angie. Consequently, he's been in a bit of a sour mood since September, and is no fun. So Fred and Angie are snogging, Lee's moping, and Alicia's off being dreamy about Wood, so it's up to George to bug the hell out of me. And he does a bloody good job, I must say. I walk through the portrait door and he's all, "Here comes the ink pellet queen, lot!" And Angie and Fred unglue themselves from each other and Lee and Alicia look up and George pelts me with about five more ink pellets. Obviously, I tackle him, and even more obviously he screams like the girl he is and runs up the stairs to his dorm. I could murder that boy and feel no remorse but for the fact that Fred would be heartbroken and mopey that his twin's gone, and then Ange will be mopey and cry all night, and I would not be able to sleep. And we all know I need my beauty sleep if I'm going to become a gold digger and marry Viktor Krum when I graduate. Yes, good plan. So George must live.

Alicia's spinning her hair again. I'm going to cut all of it off one day. With a knife. It's going to be painful.

XXX

12 November, 7:30 AM

Quidditch Locker Room

After Practice

Dearest Effing Thoughts Book:

I hate giving into you and consequently McGonagall, but if it means escaping more undeserved detentions, I might as well…Here's my first rant of the morning.

_I HATE GEORGE WEASLEY_!!! I hate everything about him! From his stupid freckled face to his long left pointer toe! (Do you even call it a pointer toe? The second one? I have no idea, do I _look_ like an anatomy expert to you!?) Anyway, today after quidditch practice, d'you know what he did?! Of course you don't, you're just a bunch of pieces of parchment my Transfiguration professor decided to burden me down with. Er…no offense. I suppose it's not your fault that's all you are. I suppose I'm not much better—just a seventeen year old quidditch player with a rage issue.

Anyway. Back to George.

So I'm back after a great practice showering in the girl's locker room (did you note the word "girl's"? Because it's very important to this story), just taking a bit of time to relax after Ange's grilling practice. I swear, she's like Oliver reincarnated. If I wasn't convinced of Alicia's sexuality, I'd place a wager that she would start following Ange around and writing about shagging _her_ in her diary. Oh, ew. Forget I wrote that. Have gotten distracted. My apologies.

So I'm showering, and I decide to have a bit of a sing before breakfast, so I'm singing this Weird Sisters song I heard on the radio yesterday, when George Weasley bursts into my shower and just _stares _at me. And I'm completely naked! And I'm like "AHHH!" and he's like "AHHH!" and I'm like "What the hell are you doing in here, George!?" and he just continues to yell and throws his hands over his eyes and runs out the shower stall and trips over the bench outside and slams his stupid head into a set of lockers. Naturally, I can't just _leave_ the idiot lying unconscious on my locker room floor, so I throw on a robe and go over to him, and I would have been sympathetic, but he's just seen me _naked_, so I roll him over and slap him in the face. And I say, "George! Bloody hell! Why are you spying on me, you little voyeur?!" And he comes up with some rubbish about thinking there was a cat drowning in the shower.

Did you read that right?! He thought my singing was a drowning cat!! So I clocked him in the jaw and he pushed me off, yelling that he's been permanently blinded by the vision of me naked, and runs out. And here I am, ranting to you, thoughts book, instead of outside skinning George Weasley alive and being sent to Azkaban at the tender age of seventeen.

I feel slightly better. But that's not going to stop me from drowning the moronic redhead in his morning Yorkshire pudding. Ha.

XXX


	2. Fun In Potions

**A/N: Wow, guys, thanks for the response! I guess I will continue to write this story. Hee hee. Just a warning ahead of time, though, it's mostly just going to be silly, & for laughs. Obviously, there's a splash of romance, but don't expect to be moved or anything. And for those of you that asked, yeah, I know Katie's technically a year below everyone, but I'm lazy & stuck her in with everyone else to make things easier. I apologize endlessly if JK's timeline is sacred to you.**

**12 November**

**Transfiguration, 11:00 AM**

**Sitting Behind Stupid George Weasley**

To My Stupid Thoughts Book:

You will never guess what happened at breakfast today. After I got dressed and ready for school, I went up to the Great Hall to find George Weasley pale and shaking, his stupid twin trying to revive him, Lee laughing his head off, and Ange and Al looking completely shocked. When I arrived, they all burst into laughter. Using my sharply honed skills of logic, I deduced that the moron had already informed our friends of the events in the locker room this morning. I scowled at all of them, sat down, whacked George upside the head, and said loudly, "Yeah, this nympho spied on me in the shower, what of it?!"

Suddenly, George appeared to regain consciousness. "I wasn't spying on you! I'd rather see McGonagall naked than you!"

Then all my so-called friends had the audacity to laugh at me. Did you read that right?! They _laughed_ at me!! Obviously, they have no moral restraint. Aren't friends supposed to be _there _for each other?! Instead of _laughing_ when someone insults their naked body?!?! And then guess what happens!

Lee: So what'd she look like George?

Lee!!!! If it wasn't bad enough having George see me naked, now Lee is perving on me as well! I wasn't sure who to attack first, but George was closer, so I launched myself at him. He screamed like the girl he is and out of nowhere, McGonagall is like, "Bell! Weasley! Calm yourselves!" And she flicks George and I behind the ears in some place where it really hurts. I thought cruel and unusual punishments were banned at Hogwarts, McGonagall!!!! And then she strides past, with this look like, "Don't make me discipline you again, Katie Bell."

So I take my revenge out on George by insulting his breakfast habits. The following scene occurred once we were all back in our seats.

Me: George, why the hell d'you eat muffins that way?

George: Wash your mouth out, Bell. And what way?

Me: I'll curse when I want to. And _that_ way. You know…the top first. Who eats the top first?

George: I do.

Me: Well, that's dumb.

George: What, you eat the bottom first?

Me: Of course I do.

George: That's silly. Then you have to take off the protective wrapper.

Me: Yeah, but the way _you're_ doing it, you might accidentally eat part of the protective wrapper! And then you can't recycle it. And they'll replace it by chopping down trees. And pretty soon the entire rainforest is gone. And the entire world will be as bare as your chin on which you can't grow a beard. And then we'll all die because there's no oxygen! Is that what you want, rainforest killer?!?!

And by this time, I'm rambling on and on and yelling so loud that half the school is staring at me, and I can see McGonagall raising her head to see where the noise is coming from, and I think to myself, "Katie, you should probably stop yelling before you get another detention", but I keep yelling anyway. Just like word vomit. And before I know it, I'm not yelling anymore—I can't because Fred Weasley is kissing me.

Yeah, you read that right. Fred Weasley kissed me! And my eyes get all wide—one, because I have no idea what he's playing at, and two, he's a bloody good kisser—and then I see McGonagall notice that I'm currently in the middle of some rather heated snogging, so it can't _possibly_ be me who's making all the ruckus, so she simmers back down and turns her attention back to that lovely bowl of morning porridge before her.

Suddenly, Fred releases me and I'm far too shocked to say anything so I just stare. Ange stared too, she looked slightly pissed. And probably rightfully so. I mean, her boyfriend _did_ just kiss me, and if I had him, I wouldn't want to share those kissing abilities with anyone else. But no matter. When I regain my sense of self, I hiss, "Fred! What the bloody hell was that for?!" And he just grins that cheeky grin of his and goes, "Just saving you from getting another detention tonight, Kates. Figured I'd give your mouth something else to do."

That warranted him a slap from Ange, and they began bickering while I turned my attention back to Alicia and Lee, who are still laughing their heads off. Lee makes a smart ass comment about snogging Fred and exposing myself to George, and I throw a dinner roll at him. He chucks it back, and I'm about to lob it right back at him, when out of midair, George snatches it and shoves it in his mouth, with this smarmy little look on his face. I wanted to hurt him. I lunged at him again, and he starts tickling me like the bastard he is, because he knows that's my weak spot. So I start to shriek and laugh like a squirrel on acid (sadly, yes, this is what my laugh sounds like) and I am totally helpless until, without warning, George drops me on the cold hard floor. I look up to see what the moron is up to now, and I see him drooling at Marietta Edgecomb, who's asking him if she can borrow his butter knife.

I would just like to let it be known that I hate Marietta Edgecomb. Passionately. And this isn't just another product of my rage addiction. This one's grounded in some pretty unshakeable logic. You see, Marietta Edgecomb is the Hogwarts Whore. Everybody knows it. She hikes her school skirt up as high as it can go without one of her cheeks falling out, and is known to be snogging at least one sap from each House at a time. Little curly haired cock-tease. I don't even get why she's in Ravenclaw. The girl is as thick as a brick. And it goes farther for me, too. In fourth year, Flitwick made us Charms partners for the week and I heard her complaining to Roger Davies that she hated working with "that Katie Bell" because "she smells like the inside of an old trainer". Excuse me!? I do _not_ smell like the inside of an old trainer. I mean, okay, maybe _once_ I came to class without showering after practice, but what of it!? Might I remind her that she's friends with Cho Chang, who also plays quidditch?! Yeah, Cho's as much of a little prissy do-good as Marietta is, but _still_. There's nothing in the rulebook that says Asian supermodels don't break a sweat. Not that I've discovered anyway.

So when I see George's stupid face as his mouth drops open and he hands her his butterknife, I pretend to gag. I mean, what the hell's wrong with the knives at the Ravenclaw table? Why does she have to come over here and be all up-ons with George? She's such a tart. I tell George this, but he just dismisses it, and says I'm just jealous Marietta finds him attractive.

Me? Jealous of George's romantic deals? As if.

XXX

**Later…3:34 P.M.**

**Potions Class**

**Trying Very Hard To Remain Unsuspicious**

Right now, wretched thoughts book, I'm not here to vent about George spying on me in the shower or Fred's kissing me or Alicia's hair that's the color of the inside of a banana peel, or even the relative unfairness of Minerva McGonagall. Right now, I just need an outlet for this supreme amusement that's boiling inside of my stomach, threatening to manifest itself and land me in three weeks of detention alongside George. So allow me to do so.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA !

breathes

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA !

Okay. Here's what happened. It's Potions class, and no one in their right mind likes potions. I'd rather have a bobotuber stuck to each of my buttcheeks, squeezing their puss out and have it drip down my legs than spend an extra minute in potions class, if you know what I mean. Anyway, to pass the time, George and I pass notes. We comment on the various pathetic natures of our classmates and imagine ways that we could push Snape into a volcano and make it look like an accident. Fred used to join us in this until he and Angie started dating. Now all they do is play footsie and give each other this sickening lovesick look. Anyway, George sits in front of me, and today as I was drifting off to sleep while me and 'Lic's potion was boiling, George shoves this note under my nose. And…well, here, I'll paste it in.

**Today is going to be the longest day of class since Binns decided to enter the teacher profession.**

_Why's that?_

**I'm sitting behind Warrington, and apparently the laundering elves put a little too much detergent in with his school britches. They've shrunk and half of his rather large buttocks is protruding from them. I think I may be sick.**

_Delightful. Thank you for sharing that with me, Mr. Weasley. Do tell me more things that will make my stomach turn with delight._

**Sorry, Kates, but I have to share my misery with someone. Fred's too busy trying to convince Ange to hike up her skirt.**

_What a charming brother you have._

**Tell me about it.**

_Okay. I have a dare for you._

**What's that?**

_Stick your quill down Warrington's crack. See what he does._

**Wonderful, Katie. Not like he could eat me or anything.**

_Wimp._

**He just leaned forward…**

_You know you want to…_

**Stop it, you've got it in my head. Now I can't stop thinking about doing it!**

_Fine. Don't do anything. I guess you like butt cracks. I just thought seeing mine would be enough for one day._

**If I die, this is your fault.**

_Thanks, I'll log that away___

And he did it!!! The idiot did it! From over the top of George's flaming head, I could see Warrington shift, and as quick as flash, George leans over and rams his quill down the lump's pants! Warrington sits straight up, reaches back, pulls George's quill out of his crack and turns around. His ruddy round face is scarlet and he yells, "You bitch!" and chucks the quill at George. George ducks, I duck, but unfortunately for Sarah Fawcett, she's not watching and it clocks her in the side of the face.

I'm laughing my head off, and George goes completely pale as Warrington leans over, grabs George by the collar and shouts, "I'll get you next time, you bastard!"

George promptly received three weeks of detention and I silenced myself immediately before being nailed as an accomplice. It's a good thing Marietta Edgecomb wasn't here; George looked sort of cute as Snape was yelling at him. In a cowardly sort of way.

Oh, ew, now I'm going all soft on George. Meh. I guess he deserves a break from my foul temper. He did, after all, almost lose his life a few minutes ago.

And once more…

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

XXX

**Even Later Than Before...**

**11 :11 PM**

**Make a Wish !**

**Laying On My Bed**

To My Thoughts Book:

I've had an epiphany. I think cornflakes smell like fresh urine. _Fresh_ urine, mind you. 'Cause I was in the bathroom today while someone was peeing and I smelled it and I thought to myself: "This appears to be a familiar odor from my childhood." And then I realized it was cornflakes. What does this tell us about cornflakes?

I have no idea.

XXX


	3. The Zit

**A/N: Sorry this has been so late in coming. Long story. Also, have lost creativeness. Hence, this chapter's suckage. At least I updated though, eh?**

14 November

9:38 AM

Girls' Toilet

To my dear, yet loathsome thoughts book:

I consider myself a very mediocre looking female. I mean, there's nothing exactly remarkable about me. Especially next to Angelina and Alicia, I sort of just blend in. But the one, _one _thing that I have always had is clear skin. Ange attributes this to never hitting puberty, and consequently maturity—which is debatable, in all fairness—but I have never ever ever ever _ever_ had too big of a problem with skin related issues. And guess what happens today. That's right. Huge pustule the size of a snitch located exactly between my eyes on the bridge of my nose. It's disgusting. Hurts like a mother, too.

It figures that I would get such a growth, shattering the one thing I only ever had confidence about. It also figures that George Weasley would be the only prick insensitive enough to point it out. Forget feeling sorry for him getting three weeks of detention for my stupid dare—the idiot deserves it now.

All morning I could tell people have been looking at it. Like they're afraid the pulsating thing is just going to explode all over them and they'll be covered in Katie puss. Okay,..ew. That's a little graphic.

BUT!

Aren't people with pimples human too?! I mean, that 5th year Millicent Bulstrode is covered in them and _she_ still has friends. Mind you, most Slytherins are crawling in facial eruptions, but STILL. I am not a different Katie Bell because I woke up with an extra head today!

So I sit down at the Gryffindor table next to Alicia and Angelina and the lads (I had a bit of a lie in this morning, so breakfast was halfway through by the time I got there). Fred and George are being pricks and sending gusts of wind out of their wands to flap up Marietta Edgecomb's skirt. I think she knew they were doing it, that's probably why she bent over even further. I swear, she hikes it up. Anyway, Ange and Al are reading a magazine and not patrolling the twins like they're supposed to (Ahem—Ange, girlfriend much? Guess not…). And Lee's scrambling to finish a Transfiguration essay we were assigned weeks ago. I'm trying to act as inconspicuous as possible, considering the tumor at the front of my head, when Ange and Al look up to say good morning and they just sort of stop.

I could kill Alicia. Ange at least looks for a second, and then pretends she didn't notice. Alicia's less obvious. She stares for about seven whole seconds, her little mouth slightly open before she clears her throat and asks in an excruciatingly high falsetto voice, "Hi Katie, how did you sleep?"

Perhaps distracted by Alicia's higher than normal tones, Fred and George look over. Fred gapes but pretends not to see anything. George, on the other hand, lets his whole mouth hang open and he's like "Katie, what happened to your _face_?!?"

At which point, I swear, the entire Gryffindor table looks up. I try to lunge at him, but Lee grabs me around the waist, and consequently I hit the table hard, falling face first into some porridge. And I look up and try to spit at George, but my aim goes awry and it lands on Fred, who screams. Then Ange starts yelling at me about expectorating on her boyfriend. I mean, here I am, porridge zit face, and she's mad because my spit just _happened _to land on Fred's vest. So before I do anything else I regret, I run to the toilet and pull you out. Merlin, I think McGonagall's wearing off on me.

Thinking about it still pisses me off beyond belief. I think my zit just quivered.

XXX

Later…

10:17 AM

Transfiguration

I was wrong about George being the only one insensitive enough to comment on my acne problem. Now I get to add Marietta Edgecomb to that list.

I always said having Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws was a bad idea. Hell, I'd take the Slytherins to the Ravenclaws. There's nothing that can make feel quite like an idiot like a Ravenclaw can. All they have to do is _look_ at you, and you can feel the intelligence dripping out of their pores. It's disgusting. Normally I find the dumbest Gryffindor I can and sit by them so I can feel better about myself when essays come 'round. Now don't tell him I said this, but that's Lee. I mean, he's a bright enough kid when he wants to be, but seriously…to get away with not doing things and still get decent marks you have to be like Weasley's and prod your wand up anything that looks like it could use some enchanting.

Lee's been a bit dull lately, seeing as how Ange and Fred are dating, and me being the kind-spirited human being that I am decided to cheer him up with a quick game of trip the whore. I chose Marietta Edgecomb. I've had ill will toward her ever since she started casting her lovely blue eyes toward George and his butter knives. He's _my_ idiot. And as much as I'd love to see him in pain some days, no one deserves the kind of pain Marietta would bring.

So Lee sticks his foot out and trips Marietta, and she sort of stumbles, then trips over my outstretched foot and goes tumbling and just as I'm about to see her land on her arse, George jumps up and catches her. Bloody bastard. Last week at quidditch practice, Fred lobbed a bludger at me while I was practicing penalties and I fell off my broom right near George and all he did was watch. That's right, he let me fall. And then I do one innocent little thing like tripping Marietta Edgecomb and all of a sudden he's a knight in shining armor. Hypocrite.

Anyway, Marietta gets up, gives George all these moony eyes, and looks back to see what tripped her. I cough loudly and turn to Lee, trying to look inconspicuous while I shove my _Charming the Charmed _textbook in the aisle with my foot.

"Oh _Katie,_" she says in her stupid grating voice. "You left your textbook in the aisle. I just tripped over it."

"No shit, Marietta?" I ask in my sweetest voice. She crumples her face, then looks at me closer, sees my second head and is like, "Oh, poor Katie…you probably can't see with that zit in your way. I've got this terriff acne cream if you'd ever like to borrow it. I mean, I never need it because…you know…but sometimes Cho borrows it because she's a quidditch player and you guys get all sweaty and stuff."

The only thing that kept me from massacring her was Lee's iron grip on both of my wrists and George mouthing "No, _No, NO_!" behind her. Little gits, both of them. Someday that wench is going to get what she deserves.

XXX

Later…5:00 PM

Common Room

Well, the wench did get what she deserved. And I got detention.

What provoked me, you ask? She didn't necessarily reference my pimple again, but she did sit by George and cast looks at me all through class and toss her curly haired head and laugh. She kept touching his elbow, and he was eating it up. It was sick.

The thing about Marietta I hate most is that she's one of those girls that's a total bitch but acts like she's an angel. And nearly anyone who isn't brain dead believes it. So when McGonagall asks for a scribe on the blackboard, she volunteers all sweetly and prances up to the board. She winked at George when she got up there. That's when I snapped.

I set fire to skirt.

Yeah, you read that right, disdaining little thoughts book. I set fire to her skirt. Now don't give me that wise "blank page" look…she deserved it. Especially after that acne comment.

After class McGonagall checked you, notebook, and said that all I'd written today was nonsense and love of George. I made the mistake of telling her she was batty. I think that made her mad. Anyway, I have detention for a week starting tomorrow. What joy.

Life is so…interesting sometimes.

XXX


	4. Roots Of Insanity

**16 November**

**9:30 AM**

**History of Magic**

My friends are SO strange. Like today I come down into the common room after having a bit of a lie in and Fred and George are waltzing with each other, Alicia's on the couch bawling her eyes out because they hung up a picture of Wood in the "Past Captains" plaque in the quidditch cabinet by the fireplace and his picture self won't _look_ at her, Ange is being all motherly and trying to console her, and Lee keeps trying to cut in between the twins. I don't think any of the boys notice that Alicia's having an aneurism. Or they've gotten so used to it like I have that they don't show any empathy anymore. Either way…men are scum. And women are ridiculous. I hereby disclaim my so-called friends. I mean, come on, thoughts book, you know me…would I _willingly _consort with these people? I think not. I'm far too sophisticated. It's THOSE PEOPLE who have brought me down to what I currently am—a girl who's about to disclaim her friendship with idiots to a bunch of scraps of paper. Oh sweet Merlin. But it here it goes…the story of how I became friends with the largest group of twats in the United Kingdom.

It all began as an eleven-year-old on Platform 9 and ¾. My two older brothers were running 'round like mad so my ever-loving Mum abandoned her timid, vulnerable first-year daughter and left her to try to get on the train herself. Despite the no broom rule for first years, I brought my trusty old Cleansweep. I mean, what was I supposed to do for fun at a far away castle out in the middle of nowhere? Besides, I _love_ quidditch. I _breathe _for quidditch. I _live_ for quidditch. Pick up on the obsession? Anyway…I was trying to get on the train when a teacher stopped me (later, I learned that it was to be the future love of my life, Professor Severus Snape) and was like, "First years can't have brooms." And he straight up grabbed it from me. Not wanting to be robbed of my most prized possession, I grabbed it back and was literally grappling with this man over my broom, shouting (in my young, anger addict way) when this tall black girl with all these braids in her hair looks at me, rolls her eyes and pushes past me into a compartment. Annoyed with this new relational aggression, I let go of my broom and followed her into the compartment.

"Hey," I said. "What was that all about?"

She looks up from her quidditch magazine. Again with the eye roll.

"If you wanted to bring your broom," she said, returning to her magazine, "You should have enchanted it like I did. I asked my brother how, and he made it three times smaller to fit inside my trunk. Look alive, kid."

I resented her calling me kid. So I told her so. I meant this exhibition of hostility to get her off of my back, but she seemed to esteem me for it because she looked me over appraisingly and then stuck out her hand.

"Angelina Johnson," she said. "You play quidditch, I imagine?"

I figured I had no one else to talk to on the train ride so I sat down and told her all about my amazing quidditch abilities. Admittedly, the conversation was simply a series of proclamations growing more and more outrageous in an attempt to outdo one another, and it was only interrupted when a tall boy with dreadlocks burst into the compartment.

"_There_ you are Ange," he said smarmily, sitting down next to her and slyly placing an arm around her. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Angelina grunted and shoved the boy away. She turned back to me. "This is Lee," she said, casting a thumb at the disheveled boy who was now in the corner of the compartment. "He's my neighbor."

"Katie," I said quirking an eyebrow. He looked confused.

"No," he said. "Lee."

I rolled my eyes. What kind of a crowd had I gotten myself into? Oh, poor little Katie…there's so much I would tell you if I could. Alas, I cannot.

It was right about that time that the twins made their first appearance. One freckled face popped through the door and stared at us. We all stopped what we were doing and looked back. Then it yelled.

"GEEEEORGE! I found a place to sit!"

"Who said you could sit here?" Angelina demanded. I made a mental note never to get this girl angry.

The boy didn't answer her question, just strode over and said in a confident voice. "Look what I can do." And he proceeded to turn every one of her braids a different color. She brandished her fist at him. Clearly, he took this as a sign of encouragement and sat down.

"I'm Fred Weasley," he said brightly.

"And she's not available," Lee snarled.

"Actually I am," Angelina said, decidedly inching away from Lee. I rolled my eyes yet again. Having been completely ignored, I decided to take a quick trip to the loo and investigate my face to see if someone had tattooed the word LOSER across my forehead while I wasn't looking. Just as I opened the door, someone burst through and collided with me. It was Fred.

I looked up at him confused. But wasn't he just…I turned around. Nope, he was still sitting by Angelina. I whipped my head back. But there was Fred again.

"Holy shit!" I yelled. "There's two of you!"

Fred and the other Fred feigned shock. The new Fred looked at Fred, screamed, and ran out the door.

"All of you are messed up," I said, grabbing my bag and preparing to leave.

"Not messed up," Lee said, laughing. "You're a swearing eleven year old. What gives?"

The boys laughed and high-fived one another. Lee introduced himself. I rolled my eyes and walked out the compartment just in time to see who I suspected to be Fred's twin coming back. I glared at him.

"What?" he asked, grinning. "Never seen a pair of twins before?"

"Of course I have," I snapped. "But not carbon copies."

The boy pretended to clench his heart. "That wounds me," he moaned. "Me and Fred have separate personalities, as different as night and day. I'm George."

He then grinned and stuck out his hand. I shook my head.

"I've had enough of this compartment," I said. "I'm going to try and find someone who's not completely bonkers to talk to."

"You can't refuse a handshake from a redhead," George said, feigning anger. "Racist!"

I stared at him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back inside.

"What have you got, George?" Fred asked. "Found a pretty bird in the hallway?"

"I was just in here," I grumbled.

"Oh, right," Fred said easily. "And what's your name, love?"

"Katie Bell," I answered, sighing.

"Oh what a nice name. Has quite the ring to it." He and George cracked up. "Let's be best friends, Katie Bell. Bestest bestie beastie friends."

I sighed, and gave up the cause. "Oh, why not," I groaned.

Alicia was another matter entirely. Apparently she spent the entire train ride in a compartment by herself, crying. She's muggleborn and had not a clue what exactly she was doing. She still had red and puffy eyes by the time we'd all been sorted and she and Ange and I were putting together our newly found dorm. In class, she kept to herself and kept her nose in her book. Ange and I mostly ignored her.

The real reason Alicia entered into our circle of friends was because of the twins. You see, Hogwarts has this really geeky thing called the Hogwarts Pep Band. Yeah, even wizarding schools aren't completely devoid of it. They play at quidditch meets and the like. Fred and George joined so they wouldn't have to pay to get into quidditch matches. They both played trombone, but mainly just messed around. They weren't even there half the time. I think the only reason they were allowed to stay in was because the director only thought there was one of them. Or say they say. Anyway, Alicia played the flute. Apparently she was one of those girly girls back home…her life was ballet and the flute. She joined for _fun_. Ange and I sort of always thought she was weird. But I guess one day Fred and George spotted her and decided she was "simply fetching", and went down to talk to her. Apparently most of the time, it was pranking…like every time she blew into her instrument, pumpkin juice came out of the end. Little things like that. You'd see them walk through the halls later and they would each come up on either side of her and lift her up because she was so tiny. Then one evening, Fred and George forced her on us. We were playing three-on-three at quidditch and Ange and I decided we wanted to make it battle of the sexes. Since neither of us consorted with any other females, the twins practically dragged Alicia out of the library, and sat her on a broom. Ange and I thought we were doomed. But, as fortune, had it, Alicia turned out to have some deft knowledge of exactly how to weave in and out of the boys and score goals. We decided to keep her around.

So, you see, thoughts book. These friends are not really mine. They were forced upon me. The main problem is that I'm just lazy and six years later I haven't managed or tried to make any new ones. So when I finally descended the stairs and George grabbed me around the waist and forced me to waltz with him despite my repeated yelling to the contrary, it's not because I _voluntarily_ choose to be around someone like George. It's because I was doomed from the beginning.

XXX

**Later…10:34 PM**

**Toilet**

I _hate_ Roger Davies. Hate, hate, hate him. He's this daft prick in my year that thinks he's God's gift to women. Seriously, he has a new girlfriend every week. Plus him and Marietta Edgecomb have this on-again, off-again relationship that no one really cares about, but everyone seems to know about. Like Roger broke up with Marietta because she thought he was too sweaty after quidditch practice and his lips slid all over her face when he tried to kiss her. Or Marietta is made at Roger because he didn't butter her breakfast roll on Thursday morning. Rubbish like that.

Anyway, I was coming back from detention from setting Marietta's skirt on fire (Filch made me disembowel rodents for Snape's private stores), and he corners me and is like "Your hair's really pretty." Like I was just going to melt into a puddle of Katie-goo because he complimented my hair. Seriously, I think that's what he expected.

I excused myself and proceeded to vomit in the nearest girls' loo. Figuratively, not literally.

Oh, and to vent to you, of course, dear thoughts book. Wouldn't want McGonagall thinking I cursed Roger's forehead with acne spelling out "PRICK" without having sought some form of anger release. That would be a shame.

XXX

**Even later…**

**11:16 PM**

**Girls' Dorm**

I _love_ Roger Davies. Yes, yes, quite an unexplainable change in sentiment from somebody who is as completely _un_volatile as I, yet it has happened. Why, you ask?

Because Angelina said that George said that Marietta said that I was flirting with that prick Davies and that George was angry about it.

I'm not sure why…if anything he should be happy. I'm getting rid of the competition so he can have his precious little Marietta Edgecomb. But he's angry. And for some strange reason I'm glad about it. Maybe I just like seeing George in pain. Who knows. But I think I'm going to keep it up. Maybe Roger will appreciate my naked body in the shower.

Oh gross. I did NOT just write that. Damn quill. Needs an eraser.

XXX


	5. Snape's Surprise

**18 November**

**10:00 AM**

**History of Magic**

**Ready to staple something to my head, I'm so bored…**

I hate the snow. Seriously, Hogwarts is fine until it snows. Then we might as well be in Nova Scotia. I have decided there was something fundamentally wrong with the mental status of the four founders when deciding the location for their school that the word "Jamaica" didn't immediately pop into their heads. Or Hawaii. Or someplace equally tropical and lush and _warm_. I think my toes are going to fall off due to their stupidity centuries earlier. _Seriously._

Plus known morons can become certifiable idiots in the snow.

Last night was the first night it snowed at Hogwarts this year. It also happened to be the morning of 7 AM Herbology. Can I just say that Herbology is the most worthless subject in the entire educational institution?! I'm being honest here. Seriously, who needs to know about plants? I don't plan on tromping throughout foliage for the rest of my adult life…Plus some of the plants spray gross stuff on you and then you grow three extra fingers. Just ask Lestor Tudgeman. He was a Hufflepuff in our class last year. George squirted some plant slightly too hard and it landed on him. Unfortunately for Tudgeman, he wasn't wearing gloves. He doesn't complain much though. Probably because now he has multiple digits with which to pleasure himself. _Shudder_.

Anyway, so the six of us are tromping through the freezing cold snow on the way to the greenhouses and I'm wearing five pairs of gloves and have my scarf wrapped around my head like a turban. And Fred and George start thinking it's funny to enchant snowballs to fly after me and hit me at the back of my head. Why is it always me?? What's wrong with bugging Angelina or Alicia once in a while? Or LEE?! He's supposed to be their effing best friend…pick on him for a while.

So anyway, there's only so long a girl can go with being pelted repeatedly in the back of the head without taking action, right? Despite Angelina's long lectures on not letting myself get provoked by the twins and they'll leave me alone, I began to lose hope and yelled at the top of my lungs. Which caused an avalanche to start. Which fell on top of Fred and George and they were trapped. Forever.

Except that only happened in my head.

What really happened was that I unwisely turned around and headbutted Fred, who easily grabbed me around the waist and tossed me over his shoulder, which allowed George to find my arse to be the perfect new target for snowball toss. Reminder: I'm freezing, and I'm in a skirt.

So I start pounding on Fred's back while Ange and Al just laugh like the traitors they are at yet another mini Katie calamity. Then, right outside the greenhouses, Fred drops me like a sack of rotten potatoes and immediately George ambushes me and I fall over in a snow bank and he shoves my face full of snow. And you know what he says?!

"Merry Christmas, Bell."

And grins his cheeky little grin and goes inside. It hardly needs mentioning that no one offered to help me up. However, this little fourth year named Colin Creepy took numerous photos. Wanker.

Professor Sprout didn't let me in. She said my dripping would disturb the plants.

XxX

**Later…**

**11:15 AM**

**Still in History of Magic**

Have mentioned to George the desire to staple something to my head in an effort to banish boredom. He assured me that this was a good idea, because it would involve something covering my face. I kicked him.

But now he's too busy drooling over stupid Marietta Edgecomb to distract me. And my other friends are either sleeping or flirting or vigorously taking notes (10 points if you can guess who). So poor Katie Bell is left to entertain herself.

I don't even understand why it is that we've had so many classes with the effing Ravenclaws lately…Seriously, I would take the Slytherins next to this. I informed Lee of this and he told me I just didn't like George's fawning over Marietta and was jealous. Idiot. There's PLENTY of reasons to hate the Ravenclaws. Like…they're smart, and I'm not. And…Marietta. And Roger keeps flirting with everyone who looks at him for over three seconds but keeps staring at me. And Marietta. And…I don't like their blue ties. And Marietta. And every time Marietta's around, George acts like even more of a wanker. Okay, so mostly I hate Marietta…I mean, so what?! I'm sure plenty of girls hate her. I'll ask Ange.

_I hate Marietta Edgecomb_.

**That's because she wants George.**

_Is not. I hate her because she's a tart and a fake.__Do you know what she said to me in Transfiguration last week?_

**Before or after you lit her skirt on fire?**

_Ha ha. For serious_.

**Fine…not that I care, but what?**

_She borrowed my pencil._

**Huh?**

_She borrowed my pencil! And then she kept thanking me like I'd beaten off a hippogriff for her or something. Honestly, I hate her_.

**You're crazy.**

_I am not. You hate her._

**I dislike her. You hate her, my friend. BIG difference. And besides, why do you keep talking about her so much? It's like you have this huge girl crush on her or something**.

_Ew! I do NOT._

**Or you love George.**

_You're nutters._

Clearly, Angelina was not a good authority. George is starting to drool, I can see a string of spit coming from his bottom lip and traveling to a pool threatening to rival the size of the English Channel. Oh, gross. What a huge prick. I would have thought he would have fallen for someone smart. Someone like…oh I don't know. Just not her.

XxX

**Even Later…**

**11:30 PM**

**STILL IN HISTORY OF MAGIC!!**

I'm going to kill Binns. Well, he's already dead so I can't kill him…Blast! But seriously, how long can these two hours last?!?!? I am so dead! I don't CARE about goblins, I don't CARE about Ministry of Magic resolutions, and I definitely don't care for watching anymore of George making an idiot of himself. And I don't love him! I resent that I'm being told I love him! In fact, I'm grinding this parchment into a ball and Lee is giving me strange looks. Go ahead, Lee, stare. See if I care! I'm not the one who can't accept the fact that my two best friends are dating and I'm now out of the picture!!! Lee and Alicia should hook up. They're both so moony over their hopeless crushes, it would be a good match. I'm convinced.

Merlin, I'm almost looking _forward_ to double Potions. Then at least we can be distracted by the Slytherins who are always like, "Hey, here come those Gryffindorks," and then snort through their oversized nostrils. They've been recycling that put-down since the 1st year. But I would totally take them over the Ravenclaws right now. Stupid…eagle things with their big blue talons and heads full of brains.

Damn it, I'm even looking forward to seeing Snape. His head full of grease…it's almost shining in my mind as a beacon of hope right now.

Fred just leaned over to look at what I was writing and informed George that I'm having a love affair with Snape. Now their heads are bent together, probably plotting some evil plan. Shit, George just took a puking pastille and excused himself from class. This _cannot _be good news…

XxX

I'm so angry I can't even head this entry…I'm currently sitting in Professor Dumbledore's office, waiting for him to come discipline me because…shit, I can't even write it properly!!!

I'm going to kill George Weasley. KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL HIM. I'm going to disembowel him, then tie him to the four corners of my bed, and quarter him. Then he's be dragged out into the streets and fed to the birds. No, lions. I AM SO ANGRY.

Basically, because of him, the entire school thinks I've had a love affair with Severus Snape. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Okay. I'm trying to calm down. I'm using this breathing technique my aunt Hypatia used when she gave birth to triplets. It's sort of working. Breathe in, hold your breath, breathe out, hold your breath. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Kill George. No, breathe. Breathe, hold breath. Breathe…

Alright.

Stated simply, there is this woman. Dolores Umbridge. To me, she's just a shitty teacher with a bad wardrobe and worse breath, and a mind to rule the school. To the Ministry, she's an outlet to check up on the goings on at Hogwarts. To the Weasley twins, she is a tool.

Anyway, it's Snape's turn for an inspection and she's going down the aisles amidst our simmering cauldrons. I'm bothering Fred, who is my cauldron partner, to tell me where George has gone. He's being an arse, so I step on his foot. He yelps, which turned out to work in favor of the twins' evil plan as George bursts through the door unnoticed at that exact moment in time and slips something in Snape's top drawer, and then manages to pop in next to Alicia. All of this took about five seconds. All Snape did was raise his eyebrows at George.

"You're lucky, Weasley number two," he says. "I almost thought I saw you come in late." Snape takes great pleasure from not calling the twins Fred and George like everyone else does. I'm pretty sure he knows both of their names extremely well, but just likes to call them Weasley one and two as if to exhibit his inherent superiority and lack of caring as to which brother is which. That's right, Snape, you're _sooo _cool because you can't tell Fred and George apart. Whatever. Get in line.

So Umbridge is just telling "Mr. Weasley, dear", that he "does need to be careful" around cauldrons, as stubbing his toe is a "nasty, but common" incident. Fred, having a scrap of decency, stifles himself as to avoid getting me in trouble. Something Weasley number two would never do. Wanker.

So things go by normally until Umbridge is up there questioning Snape, and most of the class turns to listen. It's a matter of curiosity. Me, I'm conflicted. I hate Snape, but I also hate Umbridge. They could both go jump off a cliff somewhere or be flattened like a pancake by a dragon, and life would go on for me.

So Umbridge apparently found out that little Harry Potter and some of his friends stole potion ingredients in one of their many epic "saving the world" battles/schemes and starts lecturing Snape on keeping things organized, starting with his desk. And she pulls out the first drawer and screams.

Everyone shoots up to see what's going on, and through the two giants that are Fred and George, I see Umbridge's fat hand waving what appear to be a very scandalous pair of bright green panties. And then I realize…they're _my_ bright green panties. They're the ones Ange and Al bought me for my sixteenth birthday. And they're embroidered on the back with…_oh shit…_my name!!!

"Katie Bell?!" Umbridge shrieks and everyone's heads snap to me. A lot of things happen at once. I kick George so hard I'm pretty sure he won't have children, Snape is crossing the room yelling at me, having decided that I must have planted my own scandalous underwear in his drawer to "undermine his authority", and Umbridge is shrieking that she's going to report this thoughtless, inappropriate, flagrant display of student/teacher relationships. Somehow, Colin Creepy showed up and is taking lots of pictures which the whole school is sure to have seen by now, and some idiot of a Slytherin is shouting that Katie Bell is having a hot, torrid love affair with Professor Snape. Professor McGonagall happens to have been passing by and is in an uproar as she grabs me by the arm and marches me to Dumbledore's office. I'm not sure that she knows what's going on, just saw George on the floor crying in pain and Fred and Lee surrounding him.

She says she's fetching Dumbledore and getting all the facts.

I am so dead. I'll be lucky if I'm not expelled. George will be lucky if I show him ANY mercy. Any degree of mercy is going to be seen in the way I execute him. Letting him live is not an option. As an afterthought, I'll probably murder Fred too, as he was in on it as well.

Goodbye, Weasley twins.

XxX


	6. Not Surrendering

**19 November**

**11:30 PM**

**On my bed**

George Weasley apologized to me. He apologized to me as he burst through Professor Dumbledore's door claiming my innocence. He apologized to me as we returned to the common room after I was acquitted of indecent acts with a superior. He apologized to me at dinner as I ate six pieces of chicken pie and ignored him. He apologized to me all through quidditch practice as I was practicing penalty shots with his little brother Ron. He apologized to me as he was running laps Ange made him do for letting a bludger hit Alicia while he was apologizing to me. He apologized to me in the shower (no perving this time), and he apologized to me as he followed me to the library so I could finish my potions essay I couldn't do earlier because he was apologizing.

Fred apologized, too. I forgave him.

Apparently the twin's evil plan wasn't so evil after all. You see, they only intended for Snape to find my knickers in the wee small hours of the morning as he was contemplating his miserable existence, and then rapidly try to search his brain as to how he got my knickers, consequently conjuring up dirty images of me and my panties. Oh, and possibly getting me into detention as well. Apparently, they wanted to see how he would deem it best to return my underthings, or if he would keep it as a token. It was George who knowingly inserted said knickers into Snape's top drawer after seeing that an inspection was taking place, and it was George who was enough of a pervert to know that I possessed such panties in the first place. He should have seen this coming. And why is it always me?! I accept no apology from him whatsoever. Because of him, the entire castle is talking about the Gryffindor Chaser who's having an affair with Professor Snape. And, thanks to Colin Creepy, there's photographic evidence. Or so the Hogwarts population believes. George Weasley is the devil. He's _worse_ than the devil. He's like…my own personal devil who only attacks me. And besides, it's giving me pleasure to see him in pain over the loss of my friendship. He's out there, right now, howling at the door to our dormitory for my forgiveness. And I'm not giving it to him. So ha ha on him.

Fred and Lee and Ange and Al say I'm being stupid. George took whole responsibility for the prank, right in front of Dumbledore, and now he has a month's worth of detention for it. I wanted Dumbledore to write to George's mum, because I knew she'd _really_ let him have it, but he said that he didn't need to "impress upon Mr. Weasley the seriousness of what he'd done" and blah blah blah. Now, normally, I side with old Albus on pretty much everything, but I'm pretty sure he had some kind of sparkle in those periwinkle blue eyes of his as he was speaking to both of us. I think he actually thought it was _funny_. Dumbledore always gets a kick out of Fred and George's stupid pranks. Like he's encouraging them or something. Just because they can be so charming, they get away with everything. Anyway, my so-called friends are making George out to be some kind of hero. As if he wouldn't have had detention for the next month anyway…Have they forgot whose fault this whole mess was in the first place?!?! HELLO! My good reputation is now down the drain! Everyone thinks I've been in the sack with Snape!

No, no, no. I _like_ not being friends with George anymore.

Although, Ange and Al are slightly mad due to the fact that they can't sleep because I won't forgive him, as he's putting up a good ruckus outside. But their concurrent pain is something I've got to suffer through for the greater good—slowly torturing George Weasley.

XxX

**20 November '08**

**11:00 AM**

**Charms**

**Ignoring George & Having a BLAST doing it**

So, thoughts book, you know how once upon a time (and by once upon a time, I mean two days ago), I hated having class with the Ravenclaws? Well, I've decided now that I love it. There's only a few of us that got into NEWT level charms, and so all four houses are in one class. As far as Gryffindors go, it's just Fred and George and Alicia and me. Fred and George are taking it for their joke shop. I'm taking it because I have no clue in Hell what I want to do with my life, and I'm pretty good with Charms. Alicia's taking it because she's a nerd and can't bear to drop anything from her schedule. Ange wants to be a quidditch star, so she doesn't really need it and Lee isn't taking it because Ange isn't. Pfft.

Anyway, I've discovered a new-found love for having Ravenclaws around me. Specifically, I love the fact that Marietta Edgecomb was too much of a dolt to get into NEWT level charms, but Roger Davies—shocking the entire wizarding world—managed to. And he's been staring at me all through class. Now, the sane world knows that I don't give a flying fart in space what Davies thinks of me and I don't view him as anything more than another daft opponent on the quidditch pitch, but George Weasley does not know that and seems very angry with the fact that I'm encouraging Davies's stupid attentions. He's still trying to get me to talk to him again, even though last night I swore in front of the whole common room that on the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, I would have nothing to do with George ever again and that we were no longer friends. Davies seems to be another device with which to torture George.

Roger: -gives me a stupid sort of wave-

Me: -smiles pathetically and waves back-

George: Hey, what's with you and Davies? I thought you hated him.

Me: Not as much as I hate you.

George: Come on, Bell, I've told you I'm sorry. About seven hundred and twenty-two times. I've counted.

Fred: That's pathetic, mate.

Me: I agree with your brother.

George: Ugh, Davies waved at you again.

Me: -waves and attempts stupid giggle-

Fred: Katie Kate, what is this flirtation that I see?

Me: Oh, you know…just trying to improve intra-school connections amongst the four houses.

Obviously, no one felt the need to comment.

XxX

**12:32 PM**

**Transfiguration**

**Not missing George**

I just watched Warrington extract a giant bogie from his nose and wipe it on Bole's trousers. Have suppressed the need to tell George.

XxX

**15 seconds later…**

Told Alicia instead. She didn't laugh.

XxX

**2:22 PM**

**Divination**

**Still not missing George**

Have decided to recruit Lee as new best mate. This decision had nothing to do with George choosing Marietta as his new partner since I didn't respond to his groveling.

XxX

**Later…**

**2:50 PM**

Note to self: Lee is boring. I don't know why I even became friends with him in the first place. He's nowhere near as good as George as inventing bogus ways to die.

My Prediction: I've had the fortune to become the next Minister of Magic, at the ripe young age of twenty, and, as a ceremonial favor, I've been given an exotic fruit basket. I dip into it, eagerly sinking my teeth into a mango, just as my mother shouts from the crowd that I am violently allergic to mangos. In a cruel twist of irony, I die hours after my inauguration.

Lee's Prediciton: I fell into a hole and died.

Lee is extremely distraught over Angelina. His humor is suffering immensely. I redecide to double my efforts in saving his life. This decision has nothing to do with a distraction from watching Marietta crack up over every word that comes out of George's mouth.

XxX

**Later…5:15 PM**

**Girl's Toilet**

So it turns out George does have a heart. He's followed me most of the way to dinner, begging for my forgiveness as he says school isn't nearly as fun when I'm not there to pull pranks on.

I think he sensed his mistake when I slapped him and told him that's what got him into this position in the first place. He said he was deeply sorry and missed me completely.

I told him I had to duck into the toilet because that made me want to barf.

XxX

**5:34 PM**

**Dinner**

George is an ass. He's over at the Ravenclaw table entertaining Marietta and her friends with some stupid paper swans he enchanted out of dinner napkins. Any dolt could do that.

When asked why George wasn't sitting with us, Fred replied, "Katie's being a stubborn ass."

Stupid Fred. Stupid friendship.

I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George. I don't miss George.

I _like_ not being his friend.

XxX

**6:10 PM**

**McGonagall's Office**

Am slightly embarrassed. McGonagall was apparently looking over my shoulder as I wrote multiple "I don't miss George"s in you, thoughts book, each with increasing intensity until my quill broke. She handed me a new one wordlessly so I could write my last sentence and then told me to come into her office. I have no idea what she wants.

Shit, here she comes.

XxX

**7:30 PM**

**Dorm**

Damn it. McGonagall continues to delude herself into thinking that I'm in love with George. She says I clearly have a dysfunctional relationship with Mr. Weasley and as part of my personal anger therapy program, I am to patch up the friendship. Forget that it's none of her effing business…that's what I'm to do. So, she's arranged that George and I serve our detentions together. Forget that I'm in detention for setting fire to his little girlfriend's skirt and that he's in detention for making me the laughing stock of Hogwarts, _clearly_ we're just having a lover's spat.

This is why McGonagall is seventy zillion years old and unmarried. She doesn't have the faintest bloody idea what love is.

Alas, must go serve detention with my enemy. But be assured, thoughts book…I will NEVER surrender!!!

XxX


	7. Forbidden Forest Flirtation

**22 November **

**12:10 AM**

**My dorm, my bed**

**Freaking out?!?!?**

Oh. Sweet. MERLIN. Have no idea what just happened, just know George is at the bottom of it like always. Just have to discover his sinister little plan. Haven't told anyone. Pretty much going to keep this one to myself. Well, until Ange or Al wakes up. Or I wake them up. I mean, since when do I keep a secret? I have to tell SOMEONE. Maybe then they can explain it to me.

Okay. Here's what happened.

So, George and I had our detentions tonight. I'm still finishing out my week for setting fire to Marietta Edgecomb's skirt and he's just starting his week's worth of detention for…well…being a dick. I still hadn't forgiven him, by the way, when he taps me on the shoulder in the common room around seven tonight and is all "Ready to go?" He's all cheerful about it, like he didn't just ruin my life and Colin Creepy has photographic evidence. I don't say anything, just step out the portrait hole and wave a forlorn goodbye to Ange and Al. ("If I don't see you again, Ange gets my broomstick and Alicia can have my set of bitten and stubby quills.")

George just waves cheerily. Wanker.

I honestly have no idea what he's so happy about. I guess being in detention is like second nature to him. So we get to McGonagall's office and she gives George an "official warning" for tampering with private property, which really can't have been TOO official because it wasn't even written down. Nice, Minerva. Real nice. And then she tells us that we're working with Snape tonight.

"But McGonagall!" I yell in protest, "George is the one that crossed Snape, how come I can't just wash the floors or something?!"

I have a momentary vision of accidentally on purpose forgetting to use a drying charm and watching Marietta Edgecomb trip and fall. It's amusing, even in my head. And then in my vision, Colin Creepy comes up and takes a photo. Now it's even more amusing. I think I started to laugh because McGonagall and George both gave me funny looks.

McGonagall then gives me this stern look and is all, "I have my reasons, Miss Bell." And by "I have my reasons, Miss Bell," I think she means that she wants me and George to snog so she can live vicariously through my love life or something. Freak. Well, too bad for her 'cause I hate George and always will. With a putrid, festering hatred that's rotting my soul. Wow. That's kinda poetic. I should think about going into that…

And so as we approach Snape's office, I can see George shrinking lower and lower and that cocky grin of his being wiped off of his face. Good. I like to think that George Weasley is scared of some things. Maybe I should applaud McGonagall after all for that brilliant delegation of disciplinary powers.

But Snape isn't his usual vindictive self, ironically. In a flash of unforeseen unfairness, Snape actually looks _embarrassed_. Like he won't make eye contact with either of us. George explained to me later that he figured it was because his life was thrown into sharp relief against our own, and he realized that he'd never seen a girl's pair of panties in his life before that, much less had access to them. I informed George that I never gave him access to my knickers and that next time I came over to his house, I was telling Mrs. Weasley just exactly what kind of a pervert her son was. Following that was a long series of negotiations involving George taking notes for me in Charms so I can have a lie in on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the next two months.

ANYWAY.

Snape just sort of looks at his nails as he tells us to go into the Forbidden Forest. Then I scream. I always knew he was some kind of a Death Eater.

"What the hell!?!" I shout so loud that dust falls from the rafters. "That's got to be _illegal!!_ I could get _eaten _in there!"

George claps his hands obnoxiously. "Ooh, let's go in, send up in, Snapey, send us in!" I knee him and he stumbles for a second and whines and then Snape snaps.

"Silence yourself, Weasley number two!" he shouts, rising to his feet. Ah. There's the grimy man we all know and love. Welcome back.

"You two will go into to Forbidden Forest and fetch me some moon blossom pollen, and that is the end of it!"

And then with one swish of his fantastic black cape, he's gone again. I figured he might turn into a bat or something, but he didn't. And so me and George go back out into the hall.

Faced with my impending doom, I understandably forget all about being eternally mad at George.

"How can he do this?!" I shout, as I pace up and down the hallway. "I'm going to die! You'd better protect me, you wanker. I know you've been in the Forest with Fred at least a 87 times, and if I die, you'll have that on your conscience. Ha!"

"Yeah," George grumbles, scooping me up and throwing me over his shoulder. "Great burden that will be."

"Hey!" I shout, pounding on his back. "Let me down! Now!"

Unfortunately, George has a death grip around me and refuses to comply.

"Not 'til we get down to the Forest," he says easily. "Or I know you'll try to run away, and I need your beady little eyes if I'm going to find moon blossom pollen in the dark."

"Oh, ha ha."

I take comfort in spitting in his messy, shaggy hair a few times. He doesn't notice.

So at the base of the forest, I abandon all self respect and hide behind George.

"What does he even _need_ moon blossom pollen for?" I complain. "To soak up the grease in his head?"

"It's the prime ingredient in explicit dreams elixir," George explains casually, looking aorund. I don't ask how he knows this.

"Ew," I say, trying hard to fight off the vision of whatever Snape finds to have explicit dreams about. "So what are we doing now?"

'Cause George is just pacing in front of the Forbidden Forest like he's looking for something. I mean, it's not like I'm _anxious_ to get in there or anything, but I figure if I'm going to die, I want to spend as little time thinking about it as possible.

"Looking for a lantern," George says, still not paying much attention to me. "Fred and I hide one out here in Hagrid's pumpkin patch when we go fetch ingredients."

"Oh," I say faintly. "Brilliant." I feel slightly better that I'm friends with a huge freak that actually goes romping about in a forest full of werewolves and escaped convicts and trolls for fun. Well, maybe not trolls. But who knows?

Then there's this huge rumbling and I scream again until I turn around and find out that it's just Hagrid.

"George!" he shouts. "Or Fred…eh…I can't ever tell the lot of yeh apart. What brings you out here?"

"Hagrid!" I shout, beaming. Hagrid is huge. Maybe if I coerce him into going in the forest with us, nothing will attack me. I figure that between him and George, I'm good.

"Oh hey there, yeh…" he says, and then pauses. I can tell he's in deep thought. Damn, he can't remember my name. Four years in Care of Magical Creatures and he can't even remember my name. My self esteem plummets.

"Katie!" I shout, sniffling.

"Righ'," he says faintly. "Katie. You two in detention? Whatta yeh done this time?"

"Well, I set fire to George's girlfriend's skirt and George put my knickers in Professor Snape's desk drawer and framed him for scandal," I explain with my best polite smile.

Hagrid leaves. George doesn't seem very phased, and I blow up.

"George!" I shout. "You idiot! How could you drive away our one chance of survival?!"

George doesn't respond, just starts walking. I follow him angrily.

"I mean, did you ever LOOK at the guy?! He's HUGE! Nothing could have touched us with him around! And now you drove him away, you giant prick! And might I remind you that I might not even be in this fix if you hadn't gone and flirted with the Hogwarts whore?! I blame you! If I get eaten alive by a werewolf, I blame YOU!"

"You're not going to get eaten by a werewolf, Bell," George says finally. "It's not the full moon."

I think about this. He's right. Damn.

"And by the way, did I _mention_ that I was sorry?" George asks, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, you did, but—AH!" Because I suddenly realize that after following George I'm suddenly in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. I scream and latch onto him, throwing my arms around his waist. I'm dimly aware of what this might look like, especially to McGonagall, but I don't care. If I have to attach myself to the nastiest man alive, I'll do it. And I did do it, too. And I lived to tell the tale. I'm telling it right now.

Ahem.

So, thoughts book, I'm closing my eyes and letting George look for the bloody herb all by himself (Hey, admittedly, I didn't even know what the damn thing looked like), when all of a sudden there's this huge rustling and this bloody huge giant steps out into a clearing!!!!

I didn't do anything for a full minute, and neither did George. We just stare, and then George drops the lantern and we both scream at the top of our lungs. And then the giant did.

Once again, trusty George grabs me and throws me over his shoulder and takes off running like a madman through the forest.

"George!" I cry. "I can walk! I have legs! I can run! And you're bloody making me see the thing chase after us!!!"

Because as George is running as fast as he can, the giant's running after us and I have full viewing pleasure of the huge menacing thing as drool escapes its throat and it barrels down the path…er…path it's _making_.

All of a sudden, George trips and we both go sprawling and just when I think we're both going to die, out of nowhere this bloody blue car comes barreling through the forest.

"The car!" George cries.

I faintly recognize it as the one George's little brother and Harry Potter flew into a tree three years ago. I make a mad dash for it, and attempt to get into the driver's seat, but George stops me.

"I'm driving!" he says.

"George are you bloody crazy?!" I shout. "I got here first. And we're going to DIE. Step off!"

"No," he whines. "Fred always got to drive, I want a turn."

I can't believe George is actually arguing about turns driving the get-away car that's going to save us from our deaths, and I'm about to open my mouth to argue back at him, but the giant is at our heels and George shoves me into the car and practically breaks me neck as he sits on me and starts the ignition.

And we flew out of there just as fast as you can say Merlin's pants.

The thing about George and me is that our group of friends has gotten into so many scrapes and near death experiences (normally due to the twins' stupidity), that the fact that we just encountered a giant doesn't really phase us. I mean, really, as soon as we step out of the forest, we both sort of forget that we almost died.

"Wicked!" I yell.

"Quite smashing adventure," George agrees, and we high five.

We were arguing over who saved who when we got back to the Common Room. And then I looked down and realized we were holding hands.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

XxX


	8. Awkward Confusion

**20 November**

**8:08 AM**

**Dorm Room**

I couldn't sleep so I got up early and got ready. I think I actually took more time combing my hair out today. Yuck.

I decided not to tell Ange and Al about holding George's hand last night.

Why?

Because as soon as they woke up they asked what we did for detention and I said go into the Forbidden Forest and they were all, "Did you hold George's hand?"

Stupid best friends.

XxX

**Later…**

**10:00 AM**

**Breakfast**

I now know for sure that what George did last night was just another of his stupid little pranks. How, you ask, thoughts book? Because he's being a wanker and not talking to me at all. Like he's avoiding eye contact with me and when I asked him to pass the strawberry jam he just handed it to me and didn't try flipping some into my hair first.

You see what he's doing?!

He's pretending to have a crush on me so I get my effing hopes up and then he'll go try to snog Marietta Edgecomb!! I HATE him!

Where is Roger Davies? Somebody find me Roger Davies…

XxX

**Later…**

**11:00 AM**

**Transfiguration**

George keeps looking over at me today and then looking away as soon as I make eye contact with him. Don't worry though, thoughts book. I'm not falling for it. He's an idiot if he can get me to think I care 2 knuts about him. Now he's bent over Fred's desk whispering to him. He's probably telling him about the latest fine joke he's playing on me.

Stupid joke. Stupid Fred for listening.

I won't fall for it.

I just went and sat by Roger Davies. Yeah, in the middle of class. The kid is a total prat but he's good for making George look angry instead of what he's been looking like, which is…weird.

Roger's all, "Your hair's really shiny today, Katie," and then I remember I took extra time with it today. We'll just pretend it was for Roger. There we go. No need to revisit embarrassing moments.

I can see McGonagall looking back between George and me like she's expecting something. This makes me angry so I flick my quill behind George's ear and he swears, then we both look daggers at each other. McGonagall rolls her eyes.

George just passed me a note. Hang on.

XxX

**Note From George**

**What the hell was that for, Bell?**

Nothing, _Georgie_. Just for being a prat all morning and not talking to me. Plus McGonagall was looking at us like she expected we were in love now after one night's detention. PLEASE.

**Oh, come on.**

I know, right?

**No, not that.**

What?

**You're an idiot, Bell.**

Fine. I LIKE you not talking to me. Why don't you go back to that?

**Fine.**

XxX

**Even later…2:00 PM**

**Library after CoMC**

Care of Magical Creatures is usually one of my favorite classes because it's dangerous and there's always the chance that you might die or witness one of your classmates that you hate die. Today I wished George would have his head bitten off by a chimera, but it didn't happen. We studied some shit Hagrid probably experimented with and is going to have his license revoked because of it. I did laugh when Bole and Derrek got their eyebrows singed off by it though. Blast-ended something.

Anyway, I was forced to speak to George again today because Hagrid called us over and was all, "I know yeh two saw summut last night that yeh weren't supposed ter see." And I was all casual and coy and was like, "Oh, you mean that fifty foot giant that tried to eat us?" And Hagrid looked guilty and George just glared at me. Like he's all noble and doesn't want to get Hagrid fired for almost getting us squashed…please…George is out for himself and everyone knows it. That's why he and Fred turn first years into various feathered things.

So Hagrid goes on this lengthy explanation about how this blood sucking giant is related to him or something…I don't know, I wasn't really listening, I was more annoyed at the way George's long hair kept falling in his face and how he'd flick it back periodically…twat…anyway, basically Hagrid begged us not to say anything because Professor Dumbledore already knows about it and that's all. Oh except for Harry Potter and company…of course. I swear, that kid knows about everything. Like he's a freak, he's so aware. I guess I shouldn't call Harry Potter a freak since he's always saving the world and consequently me, and all…along with Hermione the absurdly smart girl who lives in the library (in fact, I think I see her now), and Ron, Fred and George's little brother. He's basically a miniature version of the twins but not as clever, and he says "Bloody Hell" a lot. Seriously, I don't even turn around when he says it anymore. Once in a while, he'll use it for something good like Sirius Black breaking into Hogwarts, but more often than not, he's just stubbed his toe or some rubbish.

Anyway.

George hates me. He didn't talk to me or look at me the whole time, just nodded at Hagrid like he was bored and then took off, shouting something to Fred about skiving off next class because he didn't feel like going to Umbridge's.

I skived off too. But not because George did. Because I hate Umbridge. That's it, I swear.

I swear.

XxX

**Later…**

**4:55 PM**

**Girls' Toilet**

I am SOOOO mad. For the love of everything holy, is anyone NOT going to piss me off today?! Besides my stupid best friends for asking if me and George held hands, besides dumb Fred for plotting with George in Transfig, besides stupid George for EXISTING…now I'm soaking wet in toilet water and probably urine or other unmentionable YUCK.

So I run into the nearest bathroom I can find because I have to _pee_. I mean, this was bad. I didn't want anything running down my skirt, you know. So I dash into this toilet, and it just so happens to be Moaning Myrtle's, but whatever because I gotta piss like a hippogriff. Anyway, I'm coming out of the toilet and I just happen to walk through her and I'm like UGH because walking through a ghost blows, I'll tell you what. It feels like I just showered again. And Moaning Myrtle's like "What?! I disgust the stupid quidditch girl? The dumb angry girl who's always yelling and consorting with those…with those…_twins_…now you just walk through me like I'm NOTHING!? Well I have FEELINGS you know!! I'm not just a GHOST! Harry Potter understands! Harry Potter loves me! You're just a…a witch with a B!"

And she sticks up her pug nose like she's just given me the mother of insults because she used a euphemism for bitch. I just stare at her and she gets even more angry.

"No!" she shouts. "No! You're a _wench_ with a B!"

I'm confused. "A bench?" I ask slowly. She clearly realizes she's a moron and bursts into tears & is like "Shut up!" and dives down the toilet, and there's this whole TIDAL WAVE of toilet bowl water and filth, and I'm covered! And as soon as I step outside who should I see but George Weasley and he LAUGHS at me…and he's with Marietta Edgecomb and basically pretends not to know me and walks on by and they both laugh again.

I'm going to kill Myrtle. Or…I would if she wasn't already dead. Damn!

**Later…**

**6:50 PM**

I have to go to my second detention with George again. Damn. I wonder if he's going to pull some crap again like last night of if he's still going to pretend he's all mad. Probably the latter. Wanker.

XxX

**Even later…**

**11:50 PM**

**I can't keep my eyes open**

George is a MORON. MORON!!

We just polished the trophy room today and the whole time we didn't speak to each other, like he was too good for me or something, and I couldn't even take the opportunity to trip him because Filch was watching and I would have gotten in even more trouble, and I'm sick of spending detentions with George even though it's only been the second night.

So I've decided me and George aren't friends anymore for forever and all of a sudden right before I go back up to bed, he turns to me and is all, "Whatotoainoadiknoibhvoiuahdifufhkjfsikavboinbe?"

And I just stare at him, and I'm like what? And he repeats…."Whekajlknvuhovinoije;oija;ovkj;ejbeokmelkmre?"

"George, I don't speak moron," I say and he takes a deep breath and says, "Wannagotohogsmeadewithme?" and I just stare at him for like TWO SECONDS, that's all I swear, and he runs up the stairs.

Stupid George. Stupid life.

It's not like I would have said yes ANYWAY, even if he DID give me time to answer.

Don't look at me like that. I'm serious.

Dumb thoughts book.

XxX


	9. Wardrobe Malfunction

25 November

**25 November**

**8:15 AM**

**Dorm Room**

**Before Breakfast**

So I figured I might go to Hogsmeade with George. Friendship gesture, you know? As friends. I mean, me and George _are_ friends, right? Or at least we are the times that he's not being a wanker. Like in third year when I put a stinkbomb in Professor Quirrell's desk drawer and he got mad because he said his _turban_ didn't like it, and George took the rap for me. Or the time when we teamed up and lit all Lockhart's dwarf's wings on fire on Valentine's Day. Or the time he held my hand in the Forbidden Forest. And yeah. You know…stuff like that. Just…little things. Nothing big, okay?! _Geez_. I'm going to say yes because we're _friends_.

Just friends.

So stuff it, McGonagall.

XxX

**Later…8:30**

**Dorm Room Again**

**Returned from breakfast**

Oh sweet Merlin, I effing _hate_ Peeves the Poltergeist!! Do you know what he did?! Of course you don't. Stupid thoughts book. Why am I even _wasting_ my time asking you?!

Peeves the Poltergeist has a vendetta against me since the day at the beginning of the year when I accidentally on purpose threw some ink pellets at him. And it wasn't even like it was MY fault. It was totally his. He started it. Yes, I _am_ waging a war against the dead, what of it?? I _hate_ it when you look at me like that. Godric.

So today as I'm coming into breakfast, I sit down and I'm about to tell George I decoded his idiot speak when Peeves swoops down, grabs my goblet of orange juice, swallows it, and then…get this…he _rings himself out_ all over me! That's right!! The stupid specter twists himself all up and a tidal wave of orange juice is all over my shirt and hair. I was ruined.

Naturally, I run back to my room, take a quick shower, and I fling my wardrobe door open when…TA DA…there's nothing THERE. And I realized that what I was wearing was my last clean uniform. Seriously, someone tell the house elves they should come in and collect our dirty laundry. What's with having to tote it downstairs to the laundry bin? Eff that. Well, now I'm out of uniforms. I don't even bother checking Ange's because she's a giant, so I go to Alicia's. Alicia's uniforms are all clean and pressed and one size. Alicia's tiny, but I figure I'm in decent shape enough to squeeze into one of her uniforms.

WRONG.

Alicia isn't tiny. She's _miniature._ Not only is she incredibly short, she's incredibly flat chested. So I manage to fit myself into one of her uniforms and I look like Marcus Flint's day dream of a Hogwarts school girl. Seriously, her skirt's too short and I'm practically falling out of the top of her shirt. Good thing there's that vest over it. Seriously though, I think the buttons were about to pop off.

So now I'm standing here, writing furiously into you, thoughts book, who can't help me at all. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?

There's bell.

Eff.

XxX

**Later…9:45 AM**

**Transfiguration**

**In shame**

I would like to let you know—eloquently—that today BLOWS. Alright, maybe that's not so eloquent. Shit. Okay, neither was that…but at least I'm real, right? Basically, Transfiguration is a disaster, Roger Davies somehow roped me into going to Hogsmeade with him this weekend (or so he thinks), and I have double detention tonight. Who even _gets_ double detention? Even Fred and George have never had that. Fred said so.

Sigh.

So Davies being the perv he is spies me in Alicia's little uniform and is like, "Katie _Katie_ Bell!" And he puts his arm around me and directs me into Transfig while I was trying to catch up to Lee and the girls and the twins. I hate that guy. I try to push his arm off of me but he has me in a death grip and we have a little scuffle outside the door so we're the last people in the room. Then he says really loudly, "Katie. Me, you. Hogsmeade. Saturday at seven. Don't be late." And he winks at me and goes and sits down by Marietta who's giving him the stink eye. Gag me. I turn to laugh about it with my friends but they all look too shocked to say anything and George isn't even facing me, he has his head down at his desk. Lame. I start walking over to sit by him when Roger reaches out into the aisle and pinches my bottom. Naturally, this shocks and angers me and in my fury to go hex him, I turn around too fast, trip over my feet and land straight into McGonagall. Luckily, I catch myself and throw my hands around her waist. Unluckily, however, she stares down at me and into Alicia's tiny shirt.

McGonagall looks horrified and is all, "Two points from Gryffindor for…for…_indecent exposure_, Miss Bell!" Naturally, the class cracks up laughing and Fred lets out a loud whistle, which warrants him a slap from Angelina. He doesn't seem too daunted however, and gives me a pinch as I sit down next to George. I slapped him, too.

UGH.

So after freaking Fred and Roger, I'm in a pissy mood and accidentally prod my guinea pig too hard and it bursts into flames, so I have also killed a small animal today. Then I swear really loudly, and McGonagall calls me up to her desk.

That's when I got double detention.

"_What_?!" That's the first thing I said when I got up to her desk. I was in a bit of a mood.

She did that thing where her mouth line disappears and just held out her hand. I was used to the routine by now and gave her you, thoughts book. I have to tell you, it's not exactly pleasant standing at your teacher's desk while she peruses your most intimate thoughts and frustrations. Okay, ew, that's making you sound too much like a diary. But seriously, it sucked. I didn't think it was possible, but her mouth actually got thinner. I don't think she appreciated the last line of my first entry from today.

"Detention tonight, Miss Bell," was all she said when she handed you back to me.

"Yeah, that sounds great, except for that I already HAVE detention tonight," I snapped sarcastically. She wasn't impressed.

"Miss Bell, why are you dressed like some kind of a…a…lady of the night?!"

I actually almost lost it. Okay, I did lose it. I burst into laughter, and the whole class stared up at me. Fred whistled again. McGonagall gave him detention too.

"Answer me, Kathryn," she snapped.

I explained to her about not having any clean uniforms and having to wear Alicia's.

"Very well," she said. "Tonight you will be washing all of your dirty uniforms so that you no longer come to my classroom dressed like a prostitute."

"Fine, as long as I don't have to do detention with George again," I drawled. "Your plan isn't working, Professor, in case you haven't noticed. You're only making it _worse_."

She leaned over her desk and whispered very pointedly into my ear, "The Forbidden Forest seemed to work."

I growled at her.

"You will have two detentions tonight, Miss Bell," she said, flicking her attention back down to whatever student's future she was crushing by harshly grading their twelve inch essay. "One by yourself and your other usual with Mr. Weasley."

"But--!"

Except she didn't answer me. She just told me to take my seat.

Miserable old bat.

XxX


	10. Detention With The Twins

25 November

**25 November **

**1:30 PM**

**Divination**

I'm almost looking forward to double detention tonight, because it means I will have clean uniforms and will no longer be parading around in this ridiculous Whore/Tart Queen ensemble I'm currently sporting. All day people have been making comments to me, like "Nice work on the shrinking charm, Bell!" or "Look at the quiddike player…sorry, I mean _quidditch_ player!" And boys keep dropping their quills in front of me and asking me to bend over and pick them up while one stands in the front and the other stands in the back. Suddenly Hogwarts has a new tramp, and I'm finding myself to be it…What the hell, people!? Since WHEN do I have a reputation of being easy?? No one even _wants_ me, and then all of a sudden because I dress like a sleez, I'm popular with nine-tenths of Hogwarts' male population?! Merlin, people, get a life!

Divination has by far been the worst class for it. Mainly because the only good coming out of Trelawney's crystal balls sitting on the center of our tables is that it's amplifying my cleavage for Bole and Derrick's viewing pleasure. I shifted in my seat, but the damned thing's so big it doesn't matter. I gave up caring a while ago. Fred and George already spy on me in the locker rooms when we're changing, how much worse could it get?

Speaking of the twins, George hasn't spoken to me all day and I don't know why, so screw him and his Hogsmeade invitation. It wasn't like I was _going to go with him_ anyway. Yeah, right. I'd rather eat my cat. Or Alicia's. It's puffier. I'm not going with Roger Davies either, as much as I'd like to see Marietta Edgecomb do her nut, and freak out, and pull out all of her curly hair and start to live a life of celibacy with 24 cats. Or something to that effect.

Anyway.

It's pissing me off that George is suddenly all grins and laughs now with Fred, and he hasn't even spoken to me all day. I'M supposed to be the joy in his life, remember?! ME. He was the one that asked me to effing Hogsmeade, might I remind him? Geez. It better not be because I saw him talking to Marietta after Transfiguration this morning. Gag me.

Example of George's Obnoxiousness:

So when the twins saw we were doing crystal ball gazing today, Fred stands up in the middle of class & goes, "Hey George, why do you think some wizards can't have babies?" And then George stands up and strokes his chin and is all, "Well I don't know, Fred, maybe because they have _CRYSTAL BALLS_!! A-hahahahahaha!" And then they both start cracking up laughing, and of course no one else does because if they're Gryffindors, they've heard that joke seventeen thousand times and if they're Slytherins, they don't get it.

Stupid twins.

XxX

**6:45 PM**

**Common Room**

I'm sitting by myself. Angelina and Alicia were being stupid, and accusing me of trying to look like a tramp in order to get George to notice me. And when I told them that I didn't need to dress like a whore to get his attention, seeing as how he asked me to Hogsmeade last night when I was dressed rather more conservatively, all hell broke loose.

They were all, "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?" Like it was such a major deal that a boy could want to go to Hogsmeade with me. Puh-lease. I am desirable. Just ask the 1.2 men that wanted me before I wore Alicia's uniform today. Yeah. Take that.

XxX

**26 November**

**1:01 AM**

**Dorm Room**

**My Bed**

Well my life is a mess. I had not one, but two detentions tonight with not one, but two Weasley twins. It was horrifying.

Around seven they marched over to where I was studying—okay, _pretending_ to study—and Fred yells _extremely_ loudly in my ear, "READY FOR DETENTION, KATIE KATE?!" and grabs me around the waist and tosses me across his shoulder as George sticks his tongue out from behind Fred.

I hate that guy. So very, very much.

So we go to McGonagall's office as usual. Fred kept hugging me at arbitrary intervals and squeezing me to him, while I just glared with my arms crossed and George stared at the floor. She looked too tired and annoyed to deal with us, so she dished out instructions without batting an eyelash. I felt her pain.

She told us we would be scrubbing down the Charms room. Apparently some first years were trying to levitate toads and one of the prodded too hard, and now the Charms room is covered in frog guts. McGonagall took care to inform us that she placed a charm on the room that wouldn't allow us to use magic.

George said something about it being ironic. I kicked him. McGonagall looked at the ceiling and sighed.

I couldn't care less. My thinking was that at least Fred was in the room and so George wouldn't be as much of a moron. Mind you, they're both morons, but George isn't SO much of a prat when Fred's around to deflect his attention elsewhere. Then they just spend their time making stupid noises and inventing brainless shit that turns suckers dumb enough to eat stuff from them into various winged creatures. But at least they leave me alone.

Except when we got there it sucked. Because Fred suddenly fell silent and became intensely interested in the texture of frog guts and muttered something about being perfect for his new idea. When George tried to help, Fred pushed him away and said he wasn't ready to share it yet. Whatever, Fred. I swear, he's just as bad as McGonagall.

So George and me worked in silence. I vented my feelings by ever so often flicking some dried toad at the back of his neck where his hair curled up at the ends. Parts of it stuck in his long shaggy hair. I'm not sure if he noticed, but it sure made me feel a hell of a lot better. Wanker.

Half an hour later, I was in mid-flick of a particularly potent and unidentifiable frog fraction when George whirls around and bats it away with his scraper. Damn, his quidditch reflexes are good.

"Why'd you agree to go to Hogsmeade with Roger Davies?" was what he said. Demanded, more like. "I already asked you to go with me and you said no."

I rolled my eyes and was suddenly angry. "YOU didn't give me time TO answer," I reminded him. "You ran up the stairs like a scared little girl."

"Well you _would_ have said no!"

"You don't know that!"

Fred looked up, interested. "It's about time!" he shouted.

"SHUT UP!" we both yelled. He shrugged and turned back around.

"Well it's not like it _matters_, you're going with Roger anyway."

I was pissed. Still am, in fact. Who gives him the right to say what I'm doing and assume whatever the hell he wants regarding me and my Hogsmeade weekend?!

"Damn right I am!" It just popped out. I didn't mean it. I had no desire to go with Roger. He was a wanker. But if it would piss George off, I'd do it.

"Well good!" he shouts. "Because I'm going with Marietta Edgecomb!'

I gasp, and then try to cover it up. "FINE!" I shout. "Like I care!"

"I was only asking you to make Marietta jealous, anyway!"

"And I was only considering saying yes to make ROGER jealous!!"

"_Fine_!"

"FINE!"

"Could you two kids keep it down please?" Fred asks pleasantly. "I'm trying to serve my detention peacefully."

I'm about to tackle Fred, and it looks like George is too when McGonagall bursts in, shouting something about what in Godric's name is going on down here, and Fred looks up and is all, "Well, I was simply attempting to serve my detention like the peace promoting and penitent Hogwarts student I am, when George and Katie Bell had a little dispute. I was trying to lead them with my shining example, but—"

"Oh, go to bed, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, flustered.

George immediately dropped his scraper and started for the door, but McGonagall grabbed him and held him by the shoulders and yelled NOT YOU!

Fred cheerily left the room, but not before giving me a wet sloppy kiss on top of my head. I kicked him.

"MISS BELL!"

So she starts to yell about keeping her up at all hours of the night, but I don't think either George or I are listening because we're both so pissed at each other and we're just glaring, and I think somewhere in there she took fifty points from Gryffindor each. I'm too angry to care much about how torked the rest of my house would be at me and George in the morning. Screw Gryffindor. I stopped caring about house points a long time ago, anyway. And it's not like we won't just win them back in Quidditch anyway.

Then she gave George and me two more weeks of detention.

"WHAT?!"

We both yelled it at the same time.

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Until you two can learn to coexist without ripping each other to pieces, these are the consequences!!"

I sorely wanted to point out to her that detention didn't seem to be molding us into model citizens as she was down here yelling at us _for_ yelling.

Instead, I blurted out, "George and I _hate_ each other! Why can't you understand that?? The more you stick us together, the more we fight!"

George looked livid. "You _hate_ me now?! I thought we were friends!"

"Yeah, well that walked out the door the moment you asked me to Hogsmeade!"

"And you said no!"

"I did not!"

"SILENCE!" McGonagall yells, and her eyebrows tie together in one long one. George actually jumped. Idiot. "Whatever the two of you are talking about, it doesn't hold any consequence as _neither _of you will be attending Hogsmeade this weekend. You will be in my office at six o'clock sharp doing the most menial tasks I can devise!"

And she stomps out the door.

"You lost me my date with Marietta Edgecomb!" George spat as soon as McGonagall slammed the door shut. He threw his arms up and the scraper flew out of his left hand. I tried to duck, but I wasn't quick enough and it sliced me above my left eye. I instantly started gushing blood.

"Shit!" I yelled. "SHIT! Damn it, George, why the bloody hell'd you do that?!"

"I-I didn't mean to!" he stammered, and rushed toward me.

"Yeah right, like you didn't just try to kill me," I snapped.

George guiltily takes off his tie and holds it to my head, while giving me some pill out of his robes.

Like I'm putting _that_ in my mouth.

Except I did. George shoved it in there when I was yelling at him. It stopped my bleeding.

"Um…thanks," I said awkwardly.

"No problem," he muttered. He shoved his hands in his pocket.

He sort of looked cute standing there all guilty with his tie off and shirt undone and his hair all disheveled.

Damn it. Can't believe I wrote that. And it's not like I can retract it, or anything. Because there it is, mocking me. Immortalized in quill.

Booooo.

I _really, really_ hate that guy.

Anyway, I wiped off my head and gave him his tie back. He shoved it in his bag.

We worked in awkward silence for the remainder of the hour, and then George did some fancy charm work and undid McGonagall's spell and cleaned the rest of the room.

"Too bad we can't go to Hogsmeade this weekend," he muttered.

I don't know even now if he meant together, or in general. So I just muttered too bad back. Safety in generality. That's how I pass potions. I just say stupid stuff in my essays everyone knows and Snape can't grade me harsher than an Acceptable because I didn't say anything wrong. It's a good system. And it worked with George.

"Well, ready to go back to the common room?" he asks. I shake my head because I still have another detention. He looks like he's about to volunteer to help, or so I thought, but then he just shrugs and walks off. Idiot. Stupid Katie, for thinking George would ever do anything _remotely _helpful.

I have a lot to think about as I go to my next detention, where I spent three hours doing stupid laundry.

Oh well.

At least I have clean uniforms.

XxX


	11. I'm A WHAT?

November 26

November 26

10:15 AM

Transfiguration

I should have known better than to think reconciliation with George was a good idea. Very VERY poor decision. That bloke is a certifiable moron.

Plus—now most of the school knows I'm a love child.

Now I KNOW I'M A LOVE CHILD!!

I hate Weasleys. This place is crawling with them. Something has to be done.

At any rate.

I walk into breakfast this morning and plop down next to Alicia, who's nodding off. Ange and Lee are chatting about quidditch, which is rare considering they never have normal conversations 'cause Ange is dating Fred and Lee's incapable of any kind of human communication due to his ridiculous love of wallowing for Ange, like THAT'S gonna attract her to him…breathes ANYWAY.

Since Ange and Lee are behaving normally, I know the twins are doing something ridiculous, and potentially lethal, or otherwise damaging to myself. They burst in one after the other and don't look up to give a decent good morning before they're hunched together at the opposite end of the table. No one else seems to find this odd.

I clear my throat, but they don't look up. I spit into Fred's porridge, but they don't look up. I yell, "Hey, twins!!", but still no one pays attention to me. So I resort to my usual tactic. I grab George's orange juice and throw it over his head.

"What was that for, Katie?!" He whines as Fred bemusedly observed his twin and began straining drops of the juice from George's shaggy hair.

"What the hell are you doing over there?" I ask, as George dries himself with some spell form his wand that I don't know and the twins return to whatever they were doing. I can't see because they're both hunched over it.

" 'S'private," George says, not looking back up at me.

This time I kick Fred. He moans and cradles his shin.

"It's not private because you're probably plotting to destroy my life, seeing as how George and I are back on speaking terms," I announce, folding my arms.

"You and George are back on speaking terms?" Ange blurts excitedly, and Alicia and Lee grin and exchange a glance. I roll my eyes.

"So what?" I say. "Are you all relieved now that our precious bizarre loser of a friendship circle is preserved?"

"No one made you be our friend, Kates," Lee grins and points out.

"Yes, you practically did," I argue. "I could have been popular and dating Roger Davies, you know, if it weren't for you guys. I have plenty of other friends besides you."

"Oh?" George asks curiously. "Like?"

"Like…" I struggle. "Like…LeAnn…er…and LeAnn. LeAnn's cool, okay!?"

"So go sit by LeAnn," Alicia teases. "And I thought Roger Davies asked you out anyway, and Ange says you said you didn't want to go with him."

I groan. Rotten friends. George has a superior grin on his face.

"So what are you two plotting to dismantle over there anyway?" I say, changing the subject.

"Katie, I resent that you think so ill of us," George says, pretending to be hurt.

"Yes, Kates, when we're in fact such devoted friends that we're writing to your parents and sending them Happy Anniversary cards!" Fred says brightly.

"Happy what?!" I exclaim. "Look, you two can't do that, _I_ didn't even send them anything, how's that gonna look?"

"Like their daughter's best friends care more about them than their daughter does," George grins.

"Come off it, you can't…_hey_. My parent's anniversary already happened, anyway. It was in March. It's _November_ in case you two can't read a calendar…"

"Oh, we can," Fred says with an evil smile.

"What the…?"

The twins pull out this long dusty scroll and point at some obscure point of reference.

I lean forward. "What the hell is this??" I ask.

"You know, Kates, maybe we'd answer more if you didn't swear so much."

"I'LL SWEAR WHEN I BLOODY WANT TO!!"

Percy Weasley then took 5 points from Gryffindor for rowdy behavior during breakfast. See what I mean, thoughts book? Too many Weasleys!

"It's a record, Kathryn darling," Fred explains like I'm a two-year-old. "A record of your family, the Shizengamots."

"Is your last name Shizengamot?" Lee asks stupidly.

"NO!" I yell. "It's _Bell_. Bell, Bell, Bell!!"

"Creevey, Creevey, Creevey!" yells Colin Creepy.

I stare.

"Is his last name not Creepy?" I ask. Naturally, no one feels inclined to answer.

"Is your…mum's maiden name…Shizengamot?" Ange asks, attempting very badly not to laugh.

"_Yes_," I say testily. "So _what_?"

"So look where she marries your dad!" George shouts, and shoves the scroll under my nose. I sneeze out the five century old dust.

"Gross, now your snot's all over it," George says, wrinkling his nose and acting like an idiot.

Fred points. "LOOK!"

Sure enough, Isabella Shizengamot was wed to Nicola Bell on November 26 sixteen years ago.

"This has to be wrong," I say. "I don't know why the hell you two spend your time researching my ancestry, but I know for a fact that I was born _ten months_ after my parents were married, and I was born in _January_."

"You _were_ born in January," Fred says, pleased. "Look, look, you're HERE."

Kathryn Persephone Bell was listed as born in January. I stared, without comprehending. Then, it hit me.

"I'm a LOVE CHILD?!" I shouted. Half the school turned to stare at me. "I'm a LOVE CHILD!? My parents LIED?!"

"Katie's a love child, Katie's a love child!" the twins chant. Colin Creepy snaps a photo.

Naturally, I ran out of the Great Hall before McGonagall or Percy Weasley or anyone else could publicly reprimand me.

In the dorms, I grabbed my two way mirror from the bottom of my trunk where I keep it hidden so I don't have to talk to my parents.

"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!!"

My mother appeared at the other end and told me to quit yelling because she was experimenting with some fangdoozles crossed with mugglewumps which were sleeping. My family's crazy. My mum's worse.

"Happy _Anniversary_," I say bitterly.

She opens her mouth and then closes it. "Now Katie, wait…"

"You didn't!" I shout. "And now the whole school knows I'm a love child, including the twins!!"

"Do you care because now George knows?" my mum asked, winking.

"MOTHER!"

I turn the mirror over and go to Transfiguration.

Today is not my day.

XxX

Later…

11:03 AM

Still Transfiguration

McGonagall called me and George to her desk because neither of us had managed to transfigure our pineapple into a parrot. Me, because I was therapy-izing in you, George, because he spent his morning poking me in the back of the neck with his quill. I turned around the first couple of times, but he looked up into the left corner of the room and acted stupid. George needs to realize that when he looks up and to the left, it means automatic guilt. Normally, I pretend to itch the back of my neck with my wand and send a silent Full Body-Bind Curse on him, but I've lost my heart. Something about finding out you're illegitimate takes the heart out of you.

McGonagall tells us to get to work or…and then she pauses. I think she realizes that since we're pretty much booked in detention for the next two months of our lives, there's not much left that she can take from us. So she takes house points. I groan. She rubs her temples.

"Yes, Miss Bell? Not that I'm unhappy you're upset over the points, you should be, I just honestly didn't expect much reaction from you after…" she paused here and sighed a little, like she was tired of me or something. "So many years of teaching you," she finished.

"Oh," George said brightly. "Well that's because Katie's logged in for detentions for the next two months of her life, and had to turn down a date on Saturday, which she apparently she didn't want to go on anyway, AND she found out this morning that she's a love child." He grinned, obsequiously.

I want to slap him.

XxX

Later still…

12:05 PM

Charms

Fred just leaned forward and told me that it's okay that I'm a love child, because lots of people shag before they're married, and sometimes if they don't get the birth control charm right, they can end up pregnant. Which, he explains, is why it's important to practice because, for example, him and Angelina meet in the Astronomy tower every Wednesday…

I cut him off by puking.

Well, not really. But I wanted to.

Now I know why Ange cancels practice every Wednesday.

Shudder.

Xxx

3:04 PM

Care of Magical Creatures

Marietta Edgecomb: Well, MY parents were married four years before they had children…

Cho Chang: That's nice, Marietta…but I think Katie Bell can hear you.

Marietta Edgecomb: HI, GEORGE!! Still on for Saturday?!

XxX

10:05 PM

My Dorm

Detention was dull tonight…I had a shit day so I didn't feel like talking much. Plus George still hasn't told Marietta we have detention Saturday so he can't go to Hogsmeade with her. Ahem. Not that I care. We're just friends again, so…I feel I should look out for his interests. And his little girlfriend's a hopeless cock-tease.

Plus at dinner some chocolates appeared on my plate from nowhere so I ate a bunch and Roger Davies came over and was all, "Whoa, there Katie, want to watch that figure of yours, yeah?!" I wanted to deck him, but instead I pulled a grin so George would see.

And by George I mean Marietta.

GAH.

XxX


	12. Dumbledore's Office

A/N: I'm slightly sad more of you didn't review…alas, I can't have everything

**A/N: I'm slightly sad more of you didn't review…alas, I can't have everything. But, in retribution for said neglect of reviews, I have left you a delightful cliff hanger at the end. A-hahahaha. So review, my darlings, if you wish to read another update soon.**

28 November

12:00 PM

Library

Between the Start Charts and Family History Scrolls

Thoughts Book:

I'm trying to find the Weasley's family history chart to dig up some dirt on them. Yesterday Fred and George finally told me their reason for proving my illegitimacy: they were originally planning on ruining my morning with this fact—apparently I'm related to….(shudder)….Gilderoy Lockhart AND Professor Trelawney. I almost _Avada Kedavra_-ed myself right there. UGH. How can _I_, who is possibly the most sane, down to earth person, be related to_ them_? And then I remembered my crazy Herbologist mother who keeps mandrakes for pets and my father who has attended every Pride of Portee match since he graduated Hogwarts. The announcers point him out and everything. Not that I don't LOVE quidditch, because believe me—HA—I do. It's when you're the daughter of the nutcase who wears purple every day, and to bed, that you start becoming embarrassed.

ANYWAY.

I had a minor tissy fit and threw some stuff and McGonagall sent me to Professor Dumbledore.

That's where I was all morning. It was an awkward meeting.

I like Dumbledore as much as the next person, but no one can deny that he's _odd. _Like, extremely. You never know when you go into his office if he's going to philosophize on you or come out wearing some bizarre hat and spend your time talking about some magic toilet room he discovered one day. And trust me, I've been in Dumbledore's office PLENTY of times. It's mostly George's fault.

Speaking of George…

I've been having the oddest feeling since I woke up yesterday and continuing into now. Like…I've had to physically restrain myself from getting up and attacking him. And by attacking him I mean snogging him senseless. And it's not that I LIKE him. I just want a good snog.

Damn. Can't believe I actually wrote that. UGH.

ANYWAY. AGAIN.

It's effing stupid. I don't know what the problem is. But every time he pokes me with a stick or yesterday when he left his teeth marks in my Shepard's Pie, I've wanted to jump him. And I have an irrepressible need to be NEXT to him, and when I'm not with him, I'm TALKING about him. Naturally, Angelina and Alicia are quite pleased. I want to kill them. I'm sure they've…fed me something or the other or messed with my brain while I was sleeping. So called FRIENDS…

So AFTER telling me that I'm related to Gilderoy Lockhart and AFTER leaving his saliva all over my dinner, but BEFORE "accidentally" smacking me with his bludger's bat after practice so that in addition to the cut above my eye I have a large bruise forming on my knee cap, he goes over to Ravenclaw Tower (how does he even _know_ where Ravenclaw tower is? Probably that stupid "map" of his that he and Fred are always prattling on about…I don't even think that exists. And I'm not going to pretend he knows because that's where darling _Marietta_ lives…gag me). So. He goes over to Ravenclaw Tower and tells ROGER that I'm still planning on going to Hogsmeade with him!! Even though I told Roger that morning that I COULDN'T. So as we speak, I currently have a date with Roger Davies this evening. YUCK!! Could anything BE more putrid? Besides of course, George with Marietta.

I don't know why the hell he did that. I mean, he knows I don't want to go (which pisses me off because I was trying to use Roger to make George mad) , and it MADE him mad when he thought I was going with him in the first place! So I sneak over to the boy's locker room after quidditch practice, fully intent on leaving Ange's panties in his lockers so that Fred would find them and pummel him to a pulp (Which I have full confidence Fred could do, George is just a little whimp), but instead I hear the shower going so I know the boys are in the shower and that _weird_ thing that's going on with me made me check their feet so I know which one is George (George has a tiny scar above his ankle from when we tried use Trelawney's crystal balls as bludgers), and—intending on just tossing in a spare dungbomb I had in my pocket—I ripped open the shower curtain and lo and behold, there was stark naked George. And instead of FREAKING OUT like I did, he just turns around and stands there with this cheeky grin on his face and flexes for me. And, disgusted as I was, I _STILL_ wanted to jump him! So I yelled, tried to run away, but slipped on some of the water that was now pooling out from the shower. George calmly stepped over me, put on a towel, and walked me up to McGonagall's office. I was immobilized by my desire to snog him right there and my desire to punch him in the gut. Also, I was horrified by the fact that George could publicly broadcast that we had seen each other naked, which I'm sure he would take full advantage of. Plus I was in a robe. Plus it looked extremely dodgy with George in just his towel.

That's probably why McGonagall screamed.

Just a guess, anyway.

She's like, "OF ALL THE INDECOROUS THINGS I HAVE SEEN!! Blah blah blah blah blah…" She didn't really say blah blah blah blah blah, but I didn't understand half of the words she used anyway, though I'm pretty sure they conveyed anger. I understand. I've been there. I start shouting German when I'm angry sometimes. And I didn't even know I could speak German.

George calms her down and tells her that he just wanted to report that I was spying on him in the shower and that he recommended I be either taken to Dumbledore or removed from the quidditch team.

That jerked me to my senses again.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!? I WAS NOT _SPYING_ ON YOU!! YUCK!! EW! AND ALL MANNER OF….JUST YUCK!! PROFESSOR, I ONLY WANTED TO TOSS IN A DUNGBOMB BECAUSE _APPARENTLY_ I'M RELATED TO PROFESSOR LOCKHART AND PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY AND _GEORGE_ HAD TO GO TELL EVERYONE AND I'M _MAD_ AND A LOVE CHILD AND…UGH!!"

And then I started going into German. I'm not sure what I said.

But McGonagall ignored me and scheduled me another appointment with Professor Dumbledore that I had this morning.

And boy was that interesting.

He comes in with all this calm manner and he's like "Ah, Miss Bell," with this pleased smile on his face, like he was worried it was going to be something more important and vexing. Probably Harry Potter with another collapse and freak out about You-Know-Who, and then they'd have their little conferences about the end of the world, which would then be relayed to the rest of the wizarding population three months later. At least we knew You-Know-Who was back right away. But then again, he did turn up with Cedric Diggory's body, even though I guess most people are too dumb to put two and two together. (Shudder.) I hate remembering that night. I cuddled into George and cried, and he actually held me back. It's those few times that keep me from destroying him completely.

But I still think Dumbledore should take my visits seriously. Maybe they're not as important as the collective end of the world, but George is practically the end of MY world. Or the reason for it…

Shit. Did I write that??

No. It's that weird…_thing_ again.

Not me.

So.

Dumbledore looks like he's prepared to be amused, so I grit my teeth and let him really have it.

"So George Weasley has always been mean to me and a couple weeks ago he spied on me in the shower, except HIS excuse was that he thought a cat was drowning, which is ridiculous because I was just singing, and I have a GREAT singing voice if I do say so myself, and then Peeves threw some ink at me and George made fun of me for it, and then a couple days later he told everyone that I looked bad naked and he got me and him into detention for like five weeks because McGonagall thinks we're in LOVE just because I set fire to his girlfriend's skirt, which I was only doing because she was annoying not because we're in LOVE and anyway, McGonagall's got me writing in this stupid diary (no offense, thoughts book) and my life sucks, and it turns out I'm related to Trelawney and Lockhart, which is like…offensive to me…even though at one point it turns out I thought Lockhart was dashing, which I don't really remember but APPARENTLY it happened, and then all my clean uniforms were gone so I had to wear Alicia's and it was too small and I looked like a tart and everyone said so, and then Roger Davies asked me out, even though I don't like him and before that George asked me to go to Hogsmeade too but then he ran away before I could answer like a moron, even though I was going to say no because he's WEIRD and then we both got detention so we couldn't go ANYWAY, but he told Davies I was gonna go today even though I'm NOT, so I was trying to throw a dungbomb in his shower and then he made up the story that I was trying to spy on him, like I would WANT to see that!!"

I paused and took several breaths.

"Plus it turns out I'm a love child."

He smiled that little smile of his like he thinks I'm being dumb. "Miss Bell, I must commend you."

"Really?" I ask surprised. "What for?"

"That was the longest run-on sentence I've heard since Miss Patil told Miss Brown that Mr. Finnagin asked her to Hogsmeade one weekend."

I raise my eyebrows. It's weird that Dumbledore still finds time to follow Hogwarts gossip.

Anyway, he let me go and told me to tell McGonagall it was a misunderstanding. And then he winked at me when he told me to continue my friendship with Mr. Weasley because, if nothing else, it provided him with amusement for part of his day.

Sometimes I hate that guy. You have to love him, but sometimes I hate him.

So I'm finding the Weasley's ancestry to get back at George.

AHA! Here it is…

They're related to Trelawney as well…delightful…

XxX

Later…

12:45 PM

Common Room

Have shown George said chart.

He pointed at it and said a lot of weird stuff I didn't understand which is basically summed up as, "Yeah, but you're more related to her than I am."

Whatever, George.

XxX

29 November

1…no…2:30 AM

UGH.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH shit.

Have just let the impossible happen.

Have just snogged George Weasley.

XxX


	13. A Poor Decision, In Retrospect

29 November

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, ladies! Sorry for the evil cliffie, but it was a MUST ) And now, the pivotal chapter…**

29 November

10:00 AM

Dormitory

I cut that last entry off short. Mostly because it was two in the morning and I was exhausted and I don't think I could force myself to record what happened. I still don't know if I can, but I suppose I should give it a shot, so in case I end up smashing a coffee mug over an innocent first year's head, I can show McGonagall I had adequate need to relieve my anger.

UGH.

So what I said was…well…_true_. I snogged George Weasley. And not just like, a little peck, or anything. It was a full on snogging. I dunno what happened. I'm still not sure. But let me back up and explain.

So I stayed in the library for most of yesterday afternoon. One, so I could get away from George to prevent myself from _throwing _myself at him, either out of anger or out of lust, not sure which…and two, it turns out that hiding from George produces a lot of completed schoolwork. Who would have thought? I'm not the most homework conscious individual, as Alicia constantly reminds me, but now I'm done. So take that, Alicia.

Anyway, at six I packed up my bag and dropped it off in the common room and headed off to McGonagall's office for detention. I didn't bother telling Roger Davies I wasn't going to be coming. I didn't know where Ravenclaw Tower was, and I definitely wanted to avoid Roger if I could. The little creeper. Besides, I think he's disenchanted now that I'm in uniforms that fit me and now that George gave me that ugly gash above my left eye. Ahem. Not that I CARE what he thinks of me. Yuck. Except for the fact that it pisses off both George and Marietta, two people I love pissing off.

Alas.

So I wander into McGonagall's office and George is already there. Except when I look at him I don't have to physically restrain myself from jumping him. I raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him closer. It's Fred. I open my mouth to ask what he did to get in detention too, since he and Ange were planning on turning the Shrieking Shack into the Shagging Shack (yeah, ew), but he grins really big and steps on my foot hard before I can ask anything.

"OUCH!" I yell.

McGonagall rolls her eyes. Then follows an explanation of how we're going to be correcting first years' papers in her office for a while. I'm annoyed that McGonagall can't tell Fred and George apart. It's so EASY. You just…_look_ at them. The slower looking one is George. It's just EASY. Then again, outside of our friends I think it's only Dumbledore and Snape that can tell them apart. And Snape delights in pretending he's too important to remember their actual names. I sorely want to point out that Fred is Fred and not George, but Fred is about a foot taller than I am and has sweets in his pocket that could make me puke, or turn into an emu. So I stay silent.

Until McGonagall leaves, that is.

"What the hell are you doing here, and where's your twin?" I ask annoyed, sitting down and pulling out a quill and red ink.

"Katie Kate, Katie Kate," Fred says all smarmy as he pulls up a chair with his wand and sits down close to me. "Why do you address me so? I am your best friend. And after all, we have snogged."

I look at him confused. "What are you talking about? I have never snogged you. I think I would know if I snogged you."

"You did, though. At breakfast a few weeks ago."

I think back and remember my outburst and Fred "covering it up". I blush a little and remember that he's a bloody good kisser. I think he notices.

"George is just as good as me," he says.

I am horrified. "How in the bloody hell do you know how George snogs?" I ask. "And why do you think _I_, of all people, care??"

Fred shrugs. "Cause we're identical twins, and I am, so he must be," he says. "And 'cause you've seen each other naked and I know you want him."

I roll my eyes. "Those were two unfortunate coincidences," I say. "And it's not like I'm _eager_ to see him or anything, but where is he? And I thought you had a date with Ange tonight."

Fred pretends to look mortally wounded. "What?" he asks. "Can't a bloke impersonate his twin brother so he can spend a little quality time with a best mate?"

I roll my eyes. "If you think I'm going to believe you and George switched places just so you could see me in detention while you could be getting down with Ange in a drafty house, you're barmy."

He nods. "Alas, you're right. Not that I don't love you too, Katie Kate."

"Whatever," I say.

So then he goes on explaining that George asked him to go down and pretend to be him for a few minutes so he can finish showering and getting dressed.

I am suspicious. "Why's he showering?" I ask.

"You interrupted his," Fred says simply.

I protest that that was about seven hours ago. He agrees, and states that George likes his showers.

"Is he planning on going out with Marietta??" I demand.

"Now Katie Kate…"

"Damn it, Fred!"

"Wait! He's taking you to see Roger, too!"

"I don't give a rat's ass about Roger and everyone knows it."

Fred shrugs and checks his wristwatch.

"Well Kates, I would love to stay, but my girlfriend is waiting for me."

He grins creepily and gives me a tight hug before leaving. I push him off and sit down and pout. I'm annoyed that George is going to see Marietta. But at least he's taking me with him. Then I can try and make him jealous with Roger. We'll just tail the pair of them and make sure there's no funny business. Plus if Roger snogs me tonight maybe my sexual impulses for George will be satisfied and I'll be NORMAL again.

Oh gross. I never thought "sexual impulses" and "George" would be together in the same sentence. It's just too disturbing. Alas, I am...well…anyway. Listen, thoughts book. Geez, quit jumping ahead.

So as I'm pondering this, George bursts in. His shaggy red hair's still wet from the shower and his tie's undone and shirts all unbuttoned. For the first time in three months, I'm glad that Umbridge decreed we had to wear our school uniforms on weekends too, cause George looks…well…it's that weird condition I've been in flaring up.

He grins. "Did Fred inform you of the plan?" he asks, closing the door behind him, all casually with one shoulder. I have to bolt myself to the chair.

I just nod and look away before doing something stupid

"And I can't WAIT to see Roger," I declare importantly.

George rolls his eyes. "Come off it, Bell. We both know you're just going to see Davies and I'm bringing you to see Davies so we can piss each other off. I know you don't like him. And I know you think you being with him is going to distract Marietta from me, but--ha--that may not always be the case."

I snort at his self confidence.

"I'd recommend not snorting around Davies, Bell," he jokes. "It's not very becoming."

I roll my eyes. "All I have to do is unbutton a few buttons on my blouse and loosen my tie, and he's turned on," I drawl.

George shudders.

"WHAT?" I say, somewhat defensively. I'm halfway wondering if he was recalling seeing me in the shower, and halfway hoping he isn't.

He shrugs and laughs. "Nothing," he says. "Just the thought of Davies having sexual impulses is enough to make a bloke laugh, don't you think?"

I'm ready to drive my quill through his forehead, but I restrain myself.

George reshoulders his bag. "Well aren't you ready to go, Bell?" he asks.

"Not going," I say, again without looking at him.

"Oh come on, you can't tell me you'd rather stay in detention correcting first year pop quizzes than come spend a night in Hogsmeade, can you? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and use Davies to distract Marietta from me so that you can have me all to yourself. After all, you did spy on me in the shower."

I have my quill in a death grip.

"I'd rather drive upholstery tacks into my gums," I reply.

I can see him shrug his shoulders out of the corner of my eye. "Suit yourself," he says, and starts to leave.

But I can't just let him walk out the door.

"Wait!" I yell. "I'm coming…"

And he grins this superior looking grin of his. I hit him upside the head, but continue to follow him out the door and down a few corridors. I don't really pause to consider what's going to happen when McGonagall finds out we ditched detention.

I vaguely recognize the statue of the one-eyed witch in the corridor as one Fred and George were always mucking about near. George makes me close my eyes, and after a brief argument about the ridiculousness of "not letting me see his aptitude at mastering Hogwarts' secrets", for fear it would bring his legitimacy down. I think this is stupid, but I close my eyes anyway, and next thing I know George is shoving me and I'm plummeting down this cold dark, sloped pathway until I roll to a hard stop.

"GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEORGE!!" I yell, standing up and rubbing my arse. "George, if you shoved me down a pit and locked me in here, I SWEAR I'm going to rip your eyes out and feed them to Mrs. Norris, GEEEEEEEEEEEEORGE--!"

But then he slams into me and we both fall onto the floor again. In the dark, all I can see are his white teeth flashing his cheeky grin at me.

I shove him off and we both stand up. My eyes adjust to the dark, and he's just doing that stupid half-smile of his as he continues to walk down the path and button his shirt and tie his tie. I muster my dignity and stride along beside him.

"Rip my eyes out and feed them to Mrs. Norris…" George repeats. "Good one, Kates, I think I'm going to use that in Divination next week.

"Yeah, well I'll make it happen," I mutter darkly.

_THAT'S_ when the unthinkable happened.

I don't even know what started it. But after I said that, we both happened to look at each other, locked eyes, and almost simultaneously we ran at each other, crashed together, and were snogging.

And wow.

W-O-W.

Fred was right.

We dug our fingers into each other's hair, and he slammed me up against the side of the tunnel. I don't even know how long we were down there. But it was like I hadn't even kissed before. It was THAT good. And I couldn't stop. I think we both just ran out of breath, so we emerged like half an hour later in the cellar of what looked like Honeydukes.

I think I had this goofy grin on my face. George just looked pleased with himself. Git. I want to be clear, thoughts book, my feelings for him have NOT changed just 'cause we snogged. In fact, I think I hate him MORE now that we've snogged…

Anyway, we both started talking at once, and really fast, as we did up our buttons and retied our ties.

"I told Roger you'd meet him at The Three Broomsticks, sorry about that, I was feeling a little evil, but he should be there waiting for you, and I've got to meet Marietta upstairs…but maybe I could get Fred to go on the date for me, she can't tell the difference—"

"But Fred is shagging Ange in the Shrieking Shack, and Ange would KILL me if she knew I was privy to the plan—"

"Yeah, plus Fred will need a reason to know why I won't go—"

"And above all—"

"We CAN'T—"

"Let our friends know—"

"That we—"

We both stopped talking at once. I shuddered.

George grinned in his self-satisfied way, licking his finger and smoothing it over the top of my head.

"You have sex hair," he informed me, and walked up the stairs.

I was speechless.

I went on the date with Roger so our friends had no way of knowing that George and I had snogged, but I can't really say I thought about it much. I was in a stupor—horrified by what I had done. Hating George for seducing me, and hating myself more for giving into it. I vented my feelings by accidentally-on-purpose spilling a few butter beers on a blonde sitting next to me.

Afterward, I hung around in the cellar of Honeydukes waiting for George to come back so he could show me the way back to school, and when he came, I planned on slugging him in the gut. But when I went to do it, I lost my nerve and ended up having another snog fest.

That's why I got in so late.

That's why my life is in a severe downward spiral.

And only going faster.

XxX

Later…

1:45 PM

Library

Have been hiding from McGonagall so she can't get after me for skiving off detention.

No idea where George is at.

Am finishing star charts for Astronomy with Alicia.

XxX

Later…

4:00 PM

Common Room

Ange says LeAnn says the Patil twins say that Hermione Granger says that Harry Potter is having a meeting tonight at Hogshead to train to defend ourselves against You-Know-Who.

I'm going because my friends are.

And because I need to NOT be thinking about…YUCK.

My life is ruined.

XxX


	14. Hog's Head

30 November

**30 November**

**5:30 PM**

**Girls' Toilet**

Have just escaped another mad snogging session with George. I don't know what's going on with me, thoughts book!! But suddenly I don't lash out as irrationally anymore, I just throw George into the nearest broom closet and when I come out, I'm fine! But I refuse, REFUSE to admit that any of McGonagall's psycho-analytical garbage is responsible! My anger is NOT a result of pent up sexual desire for George Weasley. Oh, _gross_. I need to stop saying that! I do NOT HAVE pent up sexual desire for George Weasley, let's be clear! I just have to say that he IS one of the best bloody kissers I've ever experienced, and is it so _wrong_, is it so _hedonistic_ for a girl to indulge? No! Absolutely not! I just…have refrained from informing anyone about it. And he has, too. I _think_. Ha. It's fine, it's not like he'd be caught dead snogging me. But it's not like I'd be caught dead snogging HIM either. Ew. Just ew. I don't know what would happen to my reputation. YUCK!

But the way his hair curls just slightly at the ends is maddening.

XxX

**Later…**

**5:45 AM**

**Dorms**

Angelina and Alicia are insulting me by questioning where I was during dinner. I give them the stink-eye.

Angelina: Where were you at dinner, Katie?

Alicia: Yeah. You NEVER skip dinner.

Angelina: It's like…anti-you…

Alicia: To pass up an opportunity for food.

Me: So?? What's the big deal?!

Alicia: Geez, relax, Katie. It's not like we were insinuating anything.

Angelina: Even though George was missing, too…

Me: -Rolls Eyes- He was out late with precious MARIETTA, he was probably too zonked to roll his fat ass out of bed this morning.

Ange: No, cause Fred said his bed was empty.

Me: So maybe he was up SNOGGING HER!

Alicia: Again no, Marietta was at dinner too.

Me: SO WHAT!? Who says George was snogging ANYONE? Additionally, who said _I_ was snogging anyone?? Who has to be snogging?! Why is it ALWAYS about snogging?!

Alicia: Um…you're the only one that mentioned snogging…

Me: I'M GOING TO THE LIBRARY! Why can't you people just LEAVE ME ALONE??

XxX

**Even Later…**

**6:00**

**Library**

Well, I have nothing to do here. I have no homework, thanks to LAST time I hid in the library to avoid George, and I can't even stay in my own dorm room thanks to those conniving witches I call my best friends, so here I am. Waiting. Tonight's that ridiculous meeting in the Hog's Head, and I feel compelled to go. More that George will be there than anything else. But I HATE him, and I can't stand the SIGHT of him. So why do I feel compelled to go?? Who on earth knows? Maybe it's because if You-Know-Who decides he feels a compelling need to attack my house and steal my mother's worthless experiments and my father's menagerie of old quidditch rubbish, I can defend my home instead of leaving it up to my worthless parents who would probably throw a quaffle at him and pray he'd go away.

Well, one thing is for certain. I am NOT sitting by George tonight. Nope. Not even if he begs me. Because I don't need anyone getting ideas. And I am not giving him the gratification of knowing I even _pondered _sitting next to him.

Oh shit. Here comes McGonagall. Had forgotten I left detention undone last night. Must hide.

XxX

**Sigh.**

**7:30 PM**

**Dorms**

Well, thoughts book, if you didn't guess, I didn't make it. I was vanishing around a bookshelf when who should pop out but George Weasley. OF COURSE. He was probably even spying on me. Little pervert.

Anyway, luckily, McGonagall only thought we ditched early. Because she came at eleven thirty and neither of us were there. Nothing about Hogsmeade, or snogging, or anything else unflattering to myself. So she made us go back and finish up our corrections, and took about fifty more points from Gryffindor. Safe to say, most Gryffindors hate me and George now.

But I don't care.

I informed George I wouldn't be sitting anywhere near him at the meeting tonight. I said, "I'm not sitting by you tonight, so don't even hold your breath, you pervert." And he just grinned and said, "Okay, Kates." And walked off.

I don't get him.

Ange and Alicia are yelling at me to leave. Must find wraps.

XxX

**11:30 PM**

**After meeting**

**Common Room**

Don't worry thoughts book, I did not end up having another snog fest tonight. I kept myself at a good enough distance from George to manage that. I don't think it's completely over though, because…-shudder-…well, here's what happened.

Ange, Alicia, and I took off without the lads because Alicia had to finish curling her stupid _BLONDE _hair in case she saw Oliver Wood (She didn't. I don't know why she ever thinks she will. He's INSANE. Like he'd stop playing quidditch just because he has a day off…yeah RIGHT.). The lads were already there, leaning up against the window. George had his left foot against the wall and his arms crossed, looking all casual like he was the king of the bar, or something. GROSS. Fred was in the exact same position, but it didn't bug me. Lee was sitting on the window sill shooting sparks at Neville Longbottom who kept leaping up and looking around wildly to see where they were coming from. I grin at this. I think he's finally getting over Ange.

Ange walks decidedly past the twins and sits in the back. I think she and Fred were having some kind of fight about who stole whose quill that morning. RIDICULOUS. I don't understand those two. They're either snogging, shagging, or yelling their heads off at each other in the common room at one in the morning. The only reason I'm down in the common room right now writing is because they're up there snogging. They made up, apparently. Anyway. I followed her because I have no desire to be anywhere NEAR George, as previously explained, and Alicia was let down she didn't see Wood so she was so listless I don't think she realized WHERE she was going.

There were a ton of people there. Marietta Edgecomb showed up. That's probably why George is being all…GEORGE…tonight. To impress her. Ahem. Disgusting. She's being all self righteous though, and complaining in Cho Chang's ear. Probably that there's no room by George. I silently applaud the little bugger for standing between Lee and Fred, and try to ignore the way it's snowing outside so that it looks all warm and inviting around his adorably freckled face. _Cannot believe I just wrote that._ Note to self: Never poeticize about a Weasley. AGAIN! Stupid irresistible urge.

Marietta sits down next to Roger Davies, and Cho sits down by her. I'm surprised a chump like Davies even realizes that shit's going on at Hogwarts, let alone show up to do something about it. Then I remind myself that it's DAVIES, who will show up to any social gathering if there's the chance of hooking up afterward. He puts his arm around Marietta, but immediately turns around in what he very clearly feels is a discrete way and winks at me. I cringe, and George lets out a bark of laughter. I shake my fist at him.

Angelina pokes me. "That means George was watching you," she informed.

"No, it means he was watching Marietta," I retort, poking her back. "Why don't you go stand with Fred and quit bugging me. He IS your boyfriend."

She shook her head importantly. "He's being a prick, and won't give me back my quill. I think he's enchanting it."

"Probably so you'll shag him more frequently. Oh WAIT, you already do that enough…"

She glares at me.

Hermione Granger called the meeting to order and rambled about the importance of DOING SOMETHING. Now, I'm all for DOING SOMETHING, but I have the attention span of a three year old. Especially when George is in the room and keeps looking over at me and smirking. I blush and look away, and he returns his eyes to Hermione, looking all triumphant. Bastard.

Then this little prick called Zacharias Smith starts up with his retorting about who knew if Harry was telling the truth, blah blah blah. I want to deck him, but Fred and George speak up first, fingering their wands.

"We're not picky where we stick this," Fred says dangerously. George looks all casually confident and spins his wand between his fingers, smirking at Smith. Then he looks over and winks at me. I give him the finger.

Angelina rolls her eyes. "Stupid Weasleys," she mutters. "Always trying to get attention."

I nod fervently. Alicia just groans and says something about the pair of us needing to go over and snog them both.

"Who said anything about snogging??" I ask quickly, whipping my wand out and ready to kill whoever ratted me out.

They both look at me strangely. "No one," Ange says. "Why don't you start listening to Granger?"

I stick my tongue out at her, but redirect my attention to Hermione. I guess we're starting an organization where Harry teaches us practical defense spells once a week. I raise my eyebrows. In spite of myself, I'm interested. Maybe I could use one to hang George from the Great Hall's ceiling in his underpants. I quickly dismiss this idea. Certain members of the school would probably enjoy this too much. I glare at the back of Marietta's curly head.

I'm contemplating other ways I could castrate George and make it look like an accident, when Hermione shouts that our organization needs a name.

"How about the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina suggests, clearly very pleased with her suggestion.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" Fred retorts.

The two meet each other's gaze and grin. Fred crosses the room to give her a high five, and they're instantly reconciled. Alicia and I exchange glances and roll our eyes. Just like trained henchmen, George and Lee cross the room too as Ginny Weasley names the group "Dumbledore's Army." I have time to picture all of us in rainbow uniforms celebrating his homosexuality before George sidles in next to me.

"Hey, Bell," he hisses in my ear so that I can feel his breath on my neck. It tingles, and I elbow him in the side.

"Leave me alone, George," I say, trying to ignore him. But in all honesty, everything Harry and Hermione are saying is going in one ear and out the other.

"How about snogging again sometime?" he whispers so quietly no one else even has a clue we're talking. He grins that stupid self-confident grin.

"How about NOT?" I retort, knowing full well that it's what I want more than anything.

"How about tonight?" he presses, undaunted.

I frown slightly. _Why not?_

"Where?" I hiss back, finally. His grins grows even wider until he resembles the Cheshire Cat.

"Where indeed…" he muses.

"It has to be someplace no one will find us," I whisper urgently.

He nods.

"What about the library?" he suggests.

"THE LIBRARY?" I say, louder than I mean to. Sorry, but the idea of snogging next to dusty volumes full of bloody goblin rebellions isn't exactly me.

"I can't really see Madame Pince allowing us to practice spells in the library," Hermione says.

I crinkle my forehead, and then I realize that the group is talking about where to hold meetings, and everyone thinks I gave a suggestion.

George stifles his laughter as I glare at him.

"What was that for?" I hiss. "Now I look like an idiot. People think I think we should practice killing each other in the LIBRARY!"

George rolls his eyes. "Not _killing each other,_ drongo," he says. "Defensive spells."

"Whatever," I groan.

"So tonight?" he hisses back. "I know a place. I just thought of it."

I pause again. "_Where_?"

He looks smug. "You'll see," he says. "I'll meet you in the common room at twelve thirty."

I shake my head. "No way. I need my beauty sleep."

He scoffs. "No amount of sleep is going to help you," he says before he gets up and returns to the window sill and makes eyes at Marietta Edgecomb. I grimace. Lee gets up to join him as Fred and Ange coo over each other's stupid witticisms.

Alicia, Angelina, Lee, and I walk back by ourselves as the twins ran off the torture their little brother and sister, and probably rub up against the self-proclaimed big-wigs, Harry and Hermione.

And now I'm sitting in the common room, waiting for them to get back so I can gallivant off and snog George some more.

DON'T JUDGE ME, THOUGHTS BOOK! THIS IS THE LAST TIME. I SWEAR.

XxX


	15. Propositioning George

3 December 2008

**3 December 2008**

**12:45 P.M.**

**History of Magic**

Ahem. Sorry, thoughts book, for neglecting you. Wait! I'm NOT sorry. Because that's the point of calling you 'thoughts book'. I can't neglect you if you aren't a diary. Which you're not. In addition to not being an actual being with thoughts and feelings, therefore I'm going to stop addressing…MMM, STRUGGLING FOR WORD!...okay YOU…as "you"…

Okay. Now that that's out of the way.

History of Magic is like, the only class I can write in without getting caught. McGonagall sees me, but she doesn't bug me about it…I guess it's because it's her little punishment/therapy that's the reason I'm writing. And Snape's wising up to my act, and Charms is my one class without Marietta Edgcomb, so George is _somewhat_ normal, & Angelina's not in there so Fred is _somewhat_ normal as well. And us three plus Alicia have a _somewhat_ normal time. I'd rather save my writing time for instances such as this where I'm so bored I want to shove my quill through my right ear and see if I can poke my brain. Though, wanting to do so only implies I don't have a brain to begin with…interesting…anyway. There's only SO MUCH a girl can write about.

Especially when recently her whole life has revolved around snogging.

But that's just a hypothetical.

George's "secret place" turned out to be this random room on the seventh floor. The door just MATERIALIZED. Seven years at Hogwarts, and things like this still manage to mystify me. It's pathetic, really. George opened the door, and it ended up just leading to this small room with lots of cushy bean bags. It was kind of a let down, but I'll be honest…it was the perfect place for a good snog. Odd, though…'cause I remember once when I needed to hide from Snape who was trying to give me detention for sneaking into the Slytherin common room with the Weasleys and covering the quidditch players with honey and dragon dung, I ducked into a door that seemed to be right at the exact spot George's room was, but then it was a broom closet. I'm probably making things up though. I'm a lunatic, and I don't have a head for details. BLAH.

Anyway, I haven't snogged George since Sunday, and it's now…Tuesday. So I'm proud of myself. I _cannot_ give into that urge again. 'Cause I think I'm starting to get suspicious. 'Cause every time someone says 'snog' in my vicinity, I whirl around and think someone's outed me. And 'cause snogging George means admitting McGonagall was right. Which she is most certainly _not_.

Xxx

**Later…**

**1:45 PM**

**Transfiguration**

I hate Minerva McGonagall. Not only does she incessantly meddle in my personal life, she decided to plant a pop quiz on us at the end of class today. Most of my classmates are still working on it…I couldn't even come close to figuring out what the hell she was quizzing us on, so I wrote my name at the top and filled in the blank spaces by practicing my future signature for when I become Katie Krum. Yay, alliteration! And…money…Anyway, I can't blame McGonagall TOO much, I suppose, she did warn us yesterday that it was possible we would have a quiz at the end of class, but I was too busy staring at the back of George's head and thinking of our last snog-fest to study last night. And there he is, sitting in front of me, and two seats over, scratching away with his quill, completely devoid of thoughts of me. Moron. I hope he swings at a bludger in our next quidditch match, misses, and ends up knocking himself out. That would serve him right.

Then he would be more accessible in his hospital gown.

But I will not think of that!

I've had to engage in lots of activities to keep my mind away from devising plans to get George alone. Consequently, I've been playing even _more _quidditch than usual, which I think delights Ange because she finally has another chaser that will stay out with her after practice and fill her insatiable desire. She and my father never stop talking when she comes over to my house in the summers. That's why I try to avoid having friends over. That, and my mother's pet plant that scurries around the floor and tries to lick the guests.

Today in class before I failed my quiz (damn you, McGonagall and Weasley! You're in league together to ruin my life!), I was sitting and trying to decide how I would distract myself that day, when Lee plopped down next to me and I remembered my plan to save his life. I observed him as the parrot he was trying to vanish refused to disappear, and instead pecked him relentlessly on the nose.

Me: Need help at all, Lee?

Lee: Nooo…I need an iron mask. This bloody bird is going to maim me!

Me: -Rolls Eyes- _Immobulus._

Lee: Oh, thanks, Kates.

Me: No sweat…so Lee…how's, er, life? Getting over Ange any better?

Lee: Yeah right, Katie. Like you care. You're too busy obsessing over George.

Me: That is _sooooo_ not true! I can't BELIEVE you'd think that, why does everyone think that??

Lee: Sorry, mate. But it's true.

Me: It is NOT true. I'll bet you my chocolate frog card collection.

Lee: We haven't collected chocolate frog cards since second year.

Me: Which is why they'll be worth a fortune now.

Lee: Er…right. Anyway, Ange…I dunno…it's getting easier. It's just that she's _sooo_…

Me: Wanna play a game?

Lee looks annoyed that I'm not letting him vent about Angelina and consequently proving his point, but it's tough love. Also, talking about Angelina means talking about how she's with Fred, and Fred means George, and thinking about George leaves me mentally undressing him, and well…

But enough. Back to my humanitarian service.

Me: Seriously, Lee, it will be fun. When's the last time we played a good prank together?

Lee: Umm, never? You always get us caught. That's why Fred and George don't let you in on their plans anymore.

Me: Shut up, Lee.

-Silence-

Lee: Okay, Katie, I'm bored. What's your game?

Me: I just figured the reason you were having a bad time doing vanishing spells is because you didn't have a good enough target. Find something you want to vanish.

Lee: Like Marietta Edgecomb's skirt?

Me: Stop being gross. I was thinking more along the lines of a Slytherin…or George…

Lee: See?? You're obsessed!

Me: I am not! Ugh, okay. Marietta Edgecomb. Why don't we vanish her breasts? That might be fun…heh heh heh…

Lee: I'd kill you if you did that. What else am I going to daydream about in my spare time?

Me: You're disgusting. I'm going to do it just for that comment.

And I raise my wand to do it, but just as I am, Lee grabs me around the waist and knocks my wand aim off, and I ended up vanishing Roger Davies's pants. That's right. His PANTS. Like anyone in the world WANTED to see that!! It was SO gross, thoughts book.

And you know what's GROSSER?

Damn it. I promised I would stop referring to you as 'you'. Oh well. It's too late. I've passed the window of opportunity now. This…and learning to tap dance. It's just too late.

Anyway.

You know what's even GROSSER??

He LIKED it. He was all "Okay, who wanted to see a piece of this?" And stood up on the table and started POSING. I almost threw up in my mouth, it was _that_ bad. Lee and Angelina were practically passing out of laughter, Alicia looked uncertain about whether or not to laugh, and Fred—who I'm assuming guessed it was me because of my wand being held out and my jaw dropped—struggled for breath as he gave me a high five and muttered about it being absolutely brill.

McGonagall thought Roger did it himself and sent him to Dumbledore. I hope Dumbledore doesn't get any ideas…

George just smirked around at me and said, "Not bad, Kates."

Little prick. Godric, he looks delicious today.

XxX

**Even later…**

**2:05 PM**

**Girls' Toilet**

Shit. What did I just do?? Curse me and my insatiable snogging quest!

I gave in after Transfiguration.

As we were all packing up to leave after the Roger debacle, George was shouldering his bag and I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into an empty classroom, and trying hard to ignore my friends' cat calls.

"We need to talk," I say, slamming the door.

George is rubbing the back of his neck. "That hurt," he whines.

"We need to TALK," I repeat, crossing my arms, annoyed.

"What about?" he asks, abandoning his neck business. "How you nearly undressed Davies in class just now?"

Is it just me, or does he look slightly put out? It's probably just me. The little perv would have done the same thing to Marietta.

"NO, about…Sunday night." I say the last part really soft and fast.

His face breaks into a smirk. "Oh?" he says.

"Yeah."

"What about it?"

"Do you remember Sunday night when I met you…downstairs, and we didn't talk we just…"

"I seem to have a vague recollection," George replies thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

I smack him.

"Prick. Listen, did that make you feel bad?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Feel bad? In what way?"

"In like the I'm using you for you body way."

He laughs. "No, not at all."

I'm put out. "Really?"

"Really. Women use me for my body all the time."

I snort. "Yeah, right," I say.

"What about it, Bell?"

"Well, I was just thinking…"

"You want to do it again tonight, don't you?" he says, grinning.

I want to punch him for being so pompous, but I just frown.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I really do."

"Cool," he said. "I'll leave my door open."

And then he just strolls out. Just like that. Just like I didn't just proposition him for snogging and a little bit of fooling around.

Godric, I hate him! But I can't get rid of him!

Okay, this time….will REALLY be the last time.

XxX

**11:58 PM**

**Secret Passageway behind Gregory the Smarmy**

Oh.

Sweet. 

Godric.

Alicia just caught us!!

XxX

**A/N: I'm review hungry. Feed me?**


	16. Life After Snogging

A/N: Hello, my darlings

**A/N: Hello, my darlings! Thanks for all your reviews…continue, please!**

**December 5**

**2:34 A.M.**

**Library**

Am hiding in the library in shame. Have not faced anyone in about four days. My hair is greasy and have been sleeping on seventh floor of library, sneezing out centuries-old dust. Been sneaking down to eat out of kitchens. Ahem. NOT GOOD.

I can't believe Alicia found out!!

I haven't written in two days because I tore up everything I touched into dust, and consequently, had to cool down for a couple days. Why am I preserving this pathetic thoughts book? So that if I die of this shame, there will at least be a record of what REALLY happened, and that I, Kathryn Persephone Bell, have never, _never_ fancied George Weasley.

-Breathes-

So, okay. Here it goes.

Having propositioned George into snogging, I waited until like ten for Ange and Al to go to bed, but they just _wouldn't._ I _thought _that with Angelina being a quiddi-nazi and having practice at the buttcrack of dawn, they would be tired and zonk out as soon as they hit the mattresses, but they just stayed up all night _talking_ about Oliver Effing Wood and how he looked without a shirt, because apparently Alicia caught him undressing once. "Caught"…psh, yeah right. More like actively sought out and stared. At the age of fifteen, Alicia Spinnet was a fully-fledged pervert. Anyway, and then Ange was saying that there was no way Wood could beat Fred's naked chest, which I know for a fact is bull because I've seen George who is a wiry twig and they share genes. So, all in all, _not_ an interesting conversation, peppered with a lot of "Katie, you've seen Geeeeeeeeeeeorge! Twice!"

Ahem. Not funny.

So around eleven I was like "Well, I have to go study for potions with the twins." They didn't really bat an eyelash, because everyone knows I'm rubbish at potions and somehow, the Weasleys are deftly brilliant. And they were too much engaged in perving that they didn't notice that I grabbed YOU and not my potions book. They are so daft. How did I ever end up aligning myself with them??

Never mind.

So I go over to the lads' and knock on the door and Fred answers and is all "Hi, Katie Kate. What brings you here?" Their room is disgusting. You can smell it from five hundred meters away, I swear. Everything's scorched and covered in socks. Lee has his tie around his head and is doing monkey impressions on the dresser, and George is sitting on his bed looking at me all casually unconcerned. I hate him.

"George owes me money," I blurt out. I don't know where that came from, but it just did. "For trying one of your guys's new products."

"Really?" Fred asks, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't know you tried anything…was that the day you had that huge zit on your forehead?"

"UUUUUUUGHHHHH!" I yell, shoving Fred aside. "Come on, Weasley Number Two!" I shout, adopting Snape's nickname. "I'm not crossing the threshold without a mask protecting me from toxic waste."

George shrugs. "See you guys later," he says and walks out to meet me.

"So where d'you wanna go tonight, Bell?" he asks putting his hands into his pockets. I could really have killed him. I hate that he acts like he could get this from anyone at any time. Wanker.

So I punch him in the stomach. "Don't you pretend like you can kiss me whenever you like!" I shout.

He coughs and gasps for air for a second and is then like "Yes, I could. You're easy."

And then I shout and push him into a wall and as we're in a dark corner of the common room and it's late and past curfew, I start snogging him.

And we're going for a bit and it's getting really heated and I don't even hear Alicia until she's like…

"Katie?! GEORGE?! I thought you guys were studying!! I was going to join you!!"

And she screams and rushes up to get Ange, and George just grins and collapses into laughter when he sees my face.

"GEEEEEEEEEEEORGE!" I yell, probably loud enough to wake the entire common room, as little pajama-ed first years are started to pop out. "You planned this!!"

"No, I didn't," he said between bursts of laughter. "But wasn't that _perfect_??"

"Ugh!" I yell again, grabbing the nearest thing I could find, which happened to be a vase, and crashed it over his head and ran out of the room just as Ange and Alicia tumbled down the stairs and Fred and Lee stuck their heads out.

And this is where I've been ever since. I'm disgusting. I think there's things that are starting to live in my hair.

XxX

**Later…**

**7:30 A.M.**

**Girls' Toilet**

Have been caught living in the library. By none other than Marietta Edgecomb. I have no idea what the hell she was doing in the library, as I can't imagine her ever being in the library once in her air-headed life, but there she was with Cho at seven in the morning, and she picks up my cloak and is like, "Eeeeeeeeeew, Cho, it's a Slytherin sleeping in the library! Oh wait, it's just Katie Bell…ewwww, you need a shower, you look like Snape."

So I'm returning so I don't look like Snape. I mean, if I had to choose between turning into Snape and facing life having pressed my lips to George Weasley's, I'll take the latter. It won by a margin about as thin as a strand of Fred's armpit hair, but it won. But I stopped in the toilet first because I saw Ange and Alicia and the lads coming.

You know, I'm kind of resentful that they didn't come look for me for four days. Even if was just because Ange needed a full quidditch team. I can't _believe_ they just abandoned me. And George was there, too, just _prancing _along like nothing happened. How the hell is it that just because he's a bloke he gets away with shit like that and I am ridiculed horribly?

Well, haven't been ridiculed horribly yet. Haven't faced it yet. But I guess I'm about to.

I want to _Avada Kedavra_ myself.

XxX

**Even Later…**

**8:00 P.M.**

**Dormitory**

"Hi, Katie"?

"Hi, Katie"??

That's what I get for being missing for four days!! "Hi, Katie?!"

Me: What the hell was that??

Ange: Um, we figured if we said anything about you snogging George, you'd headbutt us.

Alicia: -Rolls Eyes- Smooth, Ange.

Ange: And your head hurts.

Me: Yeah, well…I don't fancy him okay, it was just a stupid thing, so if you read anything into it, I _will_ headbutt you.

Alicia: Fair enough.

Ange: And George already said you weren't dating and that he didn't fancy you, so…

Me: George said he didn't fancy me?

Alicia: Yeah, you jealous?

_No. Of course not._ But I'm annoyed that he said it for some reason. How dare he just go around and snog me for fun, like I'm Marietta Edgecomb?? I could crush his head in.

Ange: But don't crush his head in. We need him for quidditch.

GRR.

Alicia: Go take a shower. You look terrible.

So I did, and then went to dinner. George just grinned at me and Fred and Lee were like "OOOOOOOOOH!"

I brandished my fist at them both and they shut up. Throughout dinner, I attempted to stab George's hand with my fork but kept missing. I'm going to shove it in my eye if I miss again at breakfast tomorrow.

XxX

**6 December **

**8:30 A.M.**

**Hospital Wing**

Note to Future Self: Stabbing yourself in the eye with a fork hurts.

XxX

**Later..**

**2:00 P.M.**

**Double Potions**

**Notes Between the Girls and Me**

_I can't believe you stabbed yourself in the eye, Katie._

I missed George. It pissed me off. But thanks for the support, Alicia.

_Sorry_.

**Why d'you wanna stab George? I THOUGHT you said you didn't fancy him…**

I don't!!

_You're acting like you do._

I'm ANGRY.

**What's new?**

Shut up. I'm ANGRY that he just…snogs me and goes on with life! I want him to suffer! For ruining my life!

_How did he ruin your life?_

**Are you pregnant?**

Godric, Ange, I didn't _shag_ him!

**Just checking.**

Are YOU pregnant?

**No! I'm very carefully about :OSIH:OEIRH :OWIEHGF:OIj**

_Sorry about the scratching out. I didn't think Katie would want to have that in her diary._

It's not a diary!

_Yeah, just like those chocolates Lee gave Ange "weren't" full of last year's love potion._

**What chocolates?**

_You know. The ones Lee gave you last week._

**Oh. I put those on Katie's plate.**

_...Uh-Oh…_

OH SWEET GODRIC!! You guys TRICKED me!! I was under the influence of LOVE POTION?? That's why I snogged GEORGE?! Where's my wand, I'm searing off all your hair immediately….especially Alicia's!

_Hey, Ange put them on your plate!_

Yeah, but you're BLONDE and you always twirl it around your finger.

**Hahahaha…hahahaha…wait till I tell Fred!**

XxX


	17. BlastEndedSomethingOrOthers

7 December

**A/N: Hi, my darlings. Thought I'd put up one more chapter tonight, I fly off for another year at university tomorrow. Yikes…I'm scared to death of flying. Anyway, I never know how often I'll get a chance to update between lovely classes, lovely friends, lovely boyfriend, etc, & this year I get to do swim again. YAY! So I thought I'd do one more now, & tell you that thanks to one of you lovely reviewers, this story has been nominated for 'Best Fluff' at the Quibbler Awards. So thank you to whoever did that, I'm very flattered! If you want to vote for it starting the 26****th****, click on the link in my author's profile. (Please vote!) There's also lots of other lovely stories on that website you might enjoy as well. Hope you're all having an amazing vacation! Cheers. (I like the word lovely far too much.)**

**7 December **

**12:34 P.M.**

**History of Magic**

Am not speaking to supposed friends. Fred and Lee keep making cat calls, and Angelina and Alicia are somehow _angry _with me for keeping my promise to sear off all of their hair. Seriously, Alicia looks _good_ bald. And Ange…well…Ange has a boyfriend who doesn't seem to care. And Madame Pomfrey says she'll be able to grow it back tomorrow, so _what's the big deal??_ Still, the lads keep laughing like it's the funniest thing in the effing world.

IT'S _NOT_!!

They crack up in hallways, in the common room, in the middle of class, and every time George and I address each other. George is still being a monster prick about it all, predictably, and shrugging it off like it's one less obstacle gone in his quest for Marietta and is currently flicking pieces of paper at the back of my head. I refuse to gratify him. When I informed him of the love potion, he laughed just like the rest of our idiotic mates did, and was all, "Perfect prank, Lee! Kates won't be able to live with herself now!" He seems to think that my stabbing myself in the eye was some kind of sign of HIS victory. PSH. And he keeps following me around being like "Remember when we snogged, Kates? Remember when your lips touched mine? Remember when I frenched you? Well, guess what? I didn't brush my teeth that day! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

I want his blood.

And to top it all off, I have another two days of detention because I missed two while I was hiding from my pathetic excuse for existence. McGonagall was going to assign me another week for "blatant displays of affection" in the common room because some second-year ponce ratted me and George out, but Lee came to the rescue and informed her about the love potion, and that it wasn't my fault, and blah blah blah. Unfortunately, though, George was not under the influence of said potion, and therefore he has another week of detention which, predictably, will be served with me. At least there's only two days to endure, though.

XxX

**Later…**

**11:30 P.M.**

**Dormitory**

Well, the girls aren't speaking to me still. So I figured I would write in you, dear yet loathsome thoughts book. Yes, I've started using 'you' again. It's much easier than finding a substitute word, and I'm almost inclined to just accept the fact that I'm delusional. Though it's not my fault. Had I been sorted into a normal house like Ravenclaw, I wouldn't have turned out like this. I'm smart enough to be in Ravenclaw. Damn my propensity to spout off everything that comes into my head; I'm sure the Sorting Hat misconstrued that as 'bravery'. Tosh. But the twins are in here, and they are definitely not brave. Just stupid. Memo: Tell Dumbledore to put out an ad in _Daily Prophet_—Needed: New Sorting Hat. The old Sorting Hat will end up in Saint Mungo's, I'm sure of it, with a nice padded room all to itself.

And so will I, if forced to spend any more time with George Weasley.

Here's what happened tonight in detention:

I go into McGonagall's office and no one is there but George. Predictably. Why on earth would I think for one second that I would be spared the misery of his company?? Life never works out that way. Anyway, he grins at me and starts telling me excruciatingly painful detail what Marietta Edgecomb's bra is like, and how it is much better than my own for this and this and this reason, and I'm trying to ignore him, but he's like "Don't you wanna know _how_ I know that??" And of course I really have no desire to hear about his exploits, but he continues on and informs me that before he came to serve detention, he had a nice little romp with her in the Astronomy Tower when Roger was away.

"Just snogging, though, Kates, nothing to be jealous over."

HE SAID THAT TO ME!! That's what the huge prick _SAID TO ME_!!

Before I can castrate him, however, McGonagall swoops in and pats her bun and says something along the lines of 'Sorry she was late, was just giving detention to Malfoy and Goyle in the dungeon.'

Me: What?? They have detention tonight too? Why can't I serve with them?!

McGonagall: Well, Miss Bell, given your past history with Slytherins, I feel it best to keep you in intra-house detention. You do understand.

Psh. You hang one Slytherin from the goal hoops by his shoelaces and you're branded for life. Rubbish.

Anyway.

Apparently there was a problem with the blast-ended-something-or-others Hagrid's been fooling around with, and they escaped from the garden patch and wound up breeding in the kitchens, and the house elves refuse to work in such unsanitary conditions. _EW. _So McGonagall, being the brilliant witch that she is sentenced George and I to rounding them up and depositing them back at Hagrid's. I asked why Hagrid couldn't do it himself (Ahem, have you seen the man? He is huge. More than capable of doing his own dirty work) and she is all "Well, he's in an interview with Professor Umbridge."

Damn. Just gives me another reason to hate that woman's pink frilly guts.

So we're dumped in the kitchens. It's disgusting. Seriously, I'd rather almost watch Fred and Angie shag than this. Okay. Maybe that's not quite true. But still, it is _horrifying_. There are at least seventy of them, and they're all doing it. Repeatedly.

"Make you want some, Bell?" George asks cheekily. I hit him upside the head with a nearby spatula and order him to work across the room from me.

Seriously, where does that boy come off?? I'm wondering this as I sort through the piles of fornicating Blasties and getting burned in the process. How can he just _snog_ me repeatedly and do the same thing to Marietta Edgecomb?! Does he have no _conscience?_ I hate men! Why are they such pigs?!

"Oi, Kates!" George shouts from across the room.

"What, monster prick and bastard??" I ask, turning around.

"You look cute with your eyebrows all singed like that."

"GEORGE!"

"What? I'm serious. It's very becoming."

"Go to hell."

"Are you jealous because I snogged Marietta Edgecomb?"

"I was under the influence of a _love potion_!! I don't care five straws about you or your lousy snogging!"

"You weren't under the influence of love potion when you held my hand though, Bell."

I picked up a nearby Blasty that was without a partner and hurled it at George. It blew up in his face. He looked a little shell-shocked and soot covered, then turned around a corner and disappeared from sight.

_Hmph. Good riddance._

I thought I had figured out a good way to separate the disgusting things by kicking them off each other, but then one just climbed up on my leg and started humping it. Naturally, I screamed and ran away.

I climbed a counter top and was contemplating searing off Marietta's hair as I had done with my roommates when I suddenly heard a blood-curdling scream from behind the corner.

"KATES! KATIE, HELP ME!!"

It was George. Of course. Now, not being completely heartless, I'm slightly scared. Well, more for the fact that I could be blamed for his death, but I was still slightly alarmed.

"George?!" I call. "George, what is it??"

I leap off the countertop and am about to round the corner, but he comes running around and throws himself on the ground thrashing about wildly.

"KATIE! KATIE!"

"George, what the hell!? Should I call McGonagall?! What is it??"

"No, no, just come here! Just look at this! Tell me how bad it is!"

"What?! Look at what??"

I run down to him and peer over him. He's clutching his chest but I can't see what's wrong.

"Closer, Kates!"

I kneel down and pry at his hands to get them off his chest, but he won't move them.

"George, you bloody prat, let me see!'

"No, no, closer!"

I lean down.

"Closer!"

I should have known something was up. But I didn't.

"Closer!"

By now I'm only centimeters away from his freckled nose.

"George, what the hell is—MMPH!"

Because before I know it, he grabs me and pulls me to him and starts kissing me forcefully. Naturally, I rip myself off of him.

"Gotcha!" he shouts, and rolls around the floor with laughter in the middle of all those nasties.

"Godric, George, you are such a git!" I shout, grabbing a knife and pointing it at him. I know, thoughts book, it sounds a little violent, but trust me—at this point, you would be too.

George calms himself enough from his hysterics to walk over to me and pry the knife out of my hands.

"What's the matter, Kates, you behave like you don't fancy me."

"I _don't_ fancy you, George."

"Sure you do. You snogged me."

"I TOOK RUDDY LOVE POTION! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT??"

"But admit it, you were flirting with me before. You held my hand. And you _liked_ it."

I attempt to grab the knife back from him, but he just tackles me and grabs me around my waist until I'm practically immobile.

"Say it, Bell, say you fancy me!"

"I will never say that!"

"Say it!"

"NO!"

"Say it!"

"_NO!"_

And I kick George in his manhood so he doubles over and releases me.

He recovers after a few minutes and looks up and says, "You really don't fancy me, do you?"

He says it in a weird way. Like he _cares_. It's very odd. But it's probably another prank.

"_No, _George, I don't. Why would I fancy someone who annoys the hell out of me purposely, and snogs tarts I hate?"

"Because maybe he fancies you…"

"Are you saying you _fancy _me??"

"NO! HAHAHAHA! Gotcha again!"

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

I attempt to assault him further, but the bastard's too strong for me.

"D'you wish I did, Bell? 'Cause you look like you wish I did."

"George, the only thing I wish you'd do is drown yourself in the Black Lake."

"I wish you'd consent to snogging me again."

"Yeah, well, two girls in one days isn't how I work."

"But I like you better. Marietta was just rubbish. All hype. Trust me, don't go there."

"I would never snog Marietta. For _so_ many reasons."

"Because she's a bird?"

"That would be the biggest reason."

"Damn."

"I hate you! Men are such pigs!"

I struggle against him again, but he just pins me to the counter by my shoulders.

"Go out with me, Bell."

"Never."

"Why not?"

"Because you just _said_ you don't fancy me!"

"I was joking. It's what I do. I do fancy you. Go out with me, Bell."

"NO! George Weasley, you are the last person in this castle I would date! And that includes Warrington! And I don't know where you come off trying to wind me up, but it won't work anymore! I have had it with you, I have had it with your meaningless flirting, and I have had it with men! Goodbye!"

So I grab my jacket and storm out of the kitchens. I don't pause to look at the expression on George's face. The prick is probably trying to wind me up again with his propositions of snogging me. He probably wants to date me so he can dump me in front of the whole school. I wouldn't put it past him.

I pass Peeves in the hall. He swoops down on me with even more ink pellets.

Men. Even when they're dead, they're pricks.

XxX


	18. Suspect Actions

8 December

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing, loves. It's a mark of how much I love you all that I'm updating for you. My right arm kills from lacrosse the other day & typing sort of hurts. Conniving boyfriend has tricked me into playing a sport that makes me look like an idiot. Kinda fun, though.**

**8 December **

**11:02 A.M.**

**Transfiguration**

Angelina and Alicia have their hair back, but they still keep throwing me dirty looks. Tossers. I mean, really…what they did to my life, I should have taken their hair, fashioned it into handlebar mustaches and attached them to their faces with Sotheby's Stick-All Glue. I was being generous. VERY generous. No one appreciates me around here…

They'll warm up to m, though, once they discover the vast amounts of sweets I've left on their beds. Admittedly, most of it is Fred and George's trick sweets, but they _do _taste decently before you start bleeding or vomiting out your eyeballs.

Speaking of the twins—well, speaking of George—he's acting really bizarrely. Like today, walking out to the greenhouses, I said I was cold and instead of pelting me with snowballs or pushing me down into the snow banks, or at least spitting in my ear, he gave me his cloak. Did you read that, thoughts book?! George Weasley fucking _gave me his cloak_ because I said I was cold!! I would've assumed it was Fred, except he was busy holding hands with Angelina.

What in the bloody hell was that for??

I took it. But only because I was cold. It's not like I actively _seek out_ that scent of mince pies and gun powder.

XxX

**Later…1:20 P.M.**

**Divination**

**After Lunch**

Another bizarre George happening:

Previously, George had been making mistletoe appear every two feet in the hallway when we were walking together to try to shove his tongue down my throat, but today at lunch—when inadvertently ended up under school mistletoe with George—he didn't even _try_! Fred was all, "Oooh, Katie's under the mistletoe with _Geeeeorge_!" and George just blushes and walks away. BLUSHES! GEORGE! The last time I saw George blush was when he was pretending to like me and to drive me even further mental….Bastard. He's probably doing it again.

But I shall not be moved!

**Even Later…3:15 P.M.**

**Potions**

George is either very committed to this prank, or he's even dottier than previously imagined. In divination, Marietta Edgecomb comes up to him and unbuttons her top three buttons so that her boobs are practically hanging out and bends over in front of him to ask him a questions and leans very close to "whisper in his ear" (pfft), and the little cock tease _purposely_ makes sure her right breast brushes against his cheek!

I was overcome by a powerful desire to vomit, which was only overcome by my desire to slap her across the face, which was only overcome by Fred forcibly restraining me.

Blast!

I know they've snogged. At the time George said so, I thought he might only be hoodwinking me, but as it turns out, it really happened. I know 'cause Marietta keeps broadcasting it to anyone who will listen: "I snogged George Weasley in the Astronomy Tower last night!!" So I guess that leaves nothing to the imagination.

I can't wait 'til Roger finds out. He will pummel George's arse into a pulp and I will have no sympathy. It's what he deserves for trying to snog two girls within hours of each other.

But why is he being like this??

Because he just answered her question and went back to joking with Fred and Lee!!

There's not way he meant it when he asked me out…right??

Shit. Snape is hovering. I can see the bogies up his nose.

XxX

**6**:**30**

**Common Room**

Turns out Snape's bogies are khaki colored. Alicia says it means he doesn't get enough calcium.

Also, I lost five points for Gryffindor, bringing my total for this year of points lost to about 250. Fred says he'll throw me a party when I reach 500.

XxX

**6:45**

**Girl's Toilet**

Have to record the following. Was on the way to detention with George, and we actually had a _pleasant_ conversation. Observe:

(Context: Have just passed Filch greasing his traps. You know, the ones they used to hang students from. He leers at me and George as we pass.)

Me: What's he doing that for, d'you reckon?

George: Don't you pay attention to anything, Bell? Umbridge is saying he'll be able to use them again soon.

Me: Bad news for you, then.  
George: Bad news for _you_. You're the one that's lost 250.

Me: Puh-lease. Like you and Fred haven't lost more.

George: Me and Fred have lost 185. Together.

Me: Whatever. Well, I don't think that's what those shackles are really for. Wanna know what I think?

George: Not really, but I'm sure you're going to tell me.

Me: I think he's banging Umbridge. And she likes it kinky.

George: Impossible. Filch gives Mrs. Norris blow jobs daily, I'm sure of it.

Me: _REALLY?!_

George: It was a joke, Bell. Godric, you're gullible.

Me: Oh.

George: You know, you're cute when you look vacant.

Me: I have to urinate.

And then I duck into here. What can he mean by it?? What can George _possibly _mean by being nice to me?? He can't want to snog me again…as he's perfectly capable of snagging any tart like Marietta Edgecomb. Lee says it's because he actually fancies me, but I think not.

Ew, I just peeked around the corner and George is _waiting_ for me. What the hell?!

XxX

**Midnight**

**Common Room**

Had to finish clearing out the kitchens of blast-ended-something-or-others.

Have a nasty burn across arm, and George is in the hospital wing fetching me a bandage. Says he knows how to mend them himself.

I'm scared, thoughts book. George has clearly swallowed some kind of…of…_normal_ pill. Must figure out what is wrong with him. Must restore him to himself immediately. I have no one to fight with!

XxX


	19. Incident at Quidditch

A/N: Sorry about the delay in the update

**A/N: Sorry about the delay in the update. Things in my life have hit a pretty solid low, & I haven't really had much desire to write humor or really much of a desire to do anything. So I hope you understand if this chapter isn't quite up to par. Cheers, and as always, please review!! I love hearing your reactions.**

**10 December 2008**

**11:45 P.M.**

**Transfiguration**

Unwanted attentions from George continue. Today at breakfast he saved the muffin basket for me and didn't try to trip me when I stood up. Yesterday, he volunteered to help me with my Potions homework and then hugged me goodnight without trying to spit into my hair first.

I'm scared, thoughts book. Very scared.

**Later…**

**12:41 P.M.  
Common Room**

**Break**

Have just had the following very frightening conversation with Fred.

Fred: Where's George?

Me: How the hell should I know? He's _your_ twin brother.

Fred: Wash your mouth out. And he's been sticking to you like he's staple gunned to your side, so I thought _you _would know.

Me: Well I don't. So you're not in on this little trick of his?

Fred: What little trick?

Me: You know. The one where he follows me everywhere and is nice so that I think he's actually a decent person and when I let my guard down he shoves his wand up my nose and punctures my brain.

Fred: That would be nice, but unfortunately, Kates, it's not a trick.

Me: Of course it's a trick.

Fred: It's not.

Me: Then why the hell is he doing it??

Fred: You _really _need to wash your mouth out. And it's because he _fancies_ you. Any dolt can see that.

Me: That's _disgusting_. There's not a damn chance that's true.

Fred: Well it is. Here.

And that's when a bar of soap appeared in my mouth out of nowhere. I can still taste the lye.

**Later…**

**1:59 P.M.**

**Charms**

Had an exam today, and whilst turning the pages, my hand accidentally brushed George's and he lit on _fire._ Really. I honestly don't know what's wrong with him. I've checked myself out, and my hair isn't any prettier, my arse isn't smaller, and my bosoms have not grown in the last week that George has been behaving this way. So clearly Fred is wrong. Right?

**Even Later…7:30 P.M**

**Hospital Wing**

That's right. Hospital wing. Have I ever told you how much I _hate_ the hospital wing?? Well, I hate it. It smells of bedpans and old people. And Madame Pomfrey smokes like a chimney. Nobody will believe me, but she only does it when other teachers aren't around. Personally, I think she's another in the line of disappointed women entertaining hopes of Dumbledore's batting for the other team. I know 'cause when I was a first year she was hardcore flirting with him in the snow and was all "Ooh, Albus, I love your new earmuffs." And he blushed, and she dashed off exclaiming praise of him and how her love would be requited yet. Me and Fred and George were hiding in a tree throwing snowballs at people when we witnessed this scene. That's why she's a chain smoker. In fact, that's probably why she's a nurse. And she won't have visiting hours very often 'cause she goes into her office and practices transfiguring herself into a man. So not only is she a chain smoker, she has gender identity issues.

Or something like that. Lee doesn't store much by my theory, but it's true.

ANYWAY. The reason I'm in the hospital wing.

WEASLEY TWINS!!

Actually, all Weasleys in general!!

So I'm minding my own business in quidditch practice, simply trying to do some simple passes like Ange wanted and Ron Weasley, miniature (but much less clever) version of Fred and George, keeps dropping the effing quaffle and when he finally manages to catch it, he gets so excited, he catapults it to me with the power of Hagrid's pet giant and it smashes my nose.

And I start bleeding.

And Fred's all "Here, take this!" One of their stupid inventions, he says that end stops bleeding. And as much as I would just _love_ to continue gushing blood out my nose and have George keep looking all concernedly at me, I take the damn thing and pop it into my mouth.

Only it actually gets worse.

And I keep trying to play 'cause George is all "Are you alright, Katie? Are you alright?" and I want to get him to shut up, only soon I can't cause there's Niagra Falls coming out my nose and Ange yells at me to stop it, and I feel like I'm going to faint, and Fred is all "Oops, I gave you the wrong end."

DID YOU READ THAT RIGHT??

"OOPS, I GAVE YOU THE WRONG END?"

"_OOPS, I GAVE YOU THE WRONG END??_"

And I'm about to fly over and ensure he cannot produce even more redheaded Weasley-wastes-of-air when George grabs me and Fred, looking terrified, exclaims that they'll take me to the hospital wing.

So they walk me to the hospital wing and they're both just obnoxious with the apologies. I think Fred knows I'm going to castrate him, and George is just inquiring endlessly if I need anything, if I want him to bring me anything, if I want my own pillow, blah blah blah.

Well Madame Pomfrey healed my nose, but she says I need to spend the night lying down in case it starts up again.

Did I mention that I am going to castrate them both?? And leave their knobs in a jar and mount them above their beds so they have a constant reminder of what they did to Kathryn Bell.

Good plan.

**Even Later…**

**Hospital Wing again**

**11:30 P.M.**

George keeps coming to see me. He keeps bringing me stuff from the kitchen, and my favorite sweets, and comic books and stuff. And he keeps asking me if I'm comfortable. And when I demand to know why he's such a ponce, he's just like "I want to go out with you, Katie," and turns bright red.

Alicia says it's endearing. I pretend to vomit.

XxX


	20. Ice Skating

11 December

**11 December **

**7:38 A.M.**

**Hospital Wing**

**Last Bed, Next to Smelly Neville Longbottom**

I am the only person in the Hospital Wing, and just _where_ does Madame Pomfrey decide to put the newest patient?? Of course. Right next to me.

Can we make it clear that Neville Longbottom is a git?? He really is. "House loyalty" aside, the sniveling little chubby-cheeked boy drives me insane. He's always padding after Harry and his little friends, his buck teeth out, whimpering about something or the other. I don't know how he got into Gryffindor. The lad needs to grow a pair.

And he's always doing the dumbest things. I think he is in the Hospital Wing more than all four House quidditch teams put together. Basically, every time his year has a potions class, Neville Longbottom is sure to come in. EVERYONE knows who he is. He's like a bloody celebrity, but the one that no one wants to be because he's a twat.

Anyway, apparently last night Longbottom was in remedial potions and effed something up because he came in here with pustules all over his body and smelling like the twins' and Lee's room, only about fifty times worse.

I couldn't sleep all night because every time I tried to breathe, I caught a whiff. Little twat. I wanted to hammer him, but I didn't want my Niagara Blood Falls to start pouring out my nose again, so I was forced to remain silent. I'm sure I've got huge bags under my eyes.

I wish Pomfrey would wake up. I want out of this bloody hell hole. Longbottom's snoring and I've just discovered that someone left a rose on my night table with a note that says it's from George.

I refuse to touch it. It will probably turn into a squid tentacle or something equally disgusting. Stupid George. Stupid life.

XxX

**Later…1:38 P.M.**

**Common Room**

**Dripping Wet By The Fire**

I _hate_ George! Why is he such a bloody git?! He won't even _pretend_ to fight with me anymore! And now he's off fetching me a _blanket_ because I fell through the ice today and am nearly frozen. Who does he think he is??

I refuse to believe what Fred says. In fact he's taunting me now.

FRED: Georgie liiiikes Katieeeeee! Georgie liiiiiikes Katieeeeeeeee!

I flick a burning ember toward him with the fire poker and it hits his stupid freckled face and he shuts up. Well, sort of. He's kind of whimpering now, and Alicia's checking it out to see if he needs to go to the Hospital Wing. I hope he does. Then _he_ can try to cope with the stinking Neville Longbottom. That will serve him right. HA!

So I guess I should explain today, and why my hatred of George has tripled within the last two and a half hours.

Basically, the Black Lake froze over today and it was Lee's brilliant idea to follow suit with the rest of the idiots in Hogwarts and go ice skating. NOTE: I cannot ice skate. Alicia can ice skate. Angelina can ice skate. The twins can ice skate (by the way, how is it that _Fred and George_ bloody know how to ice skate?? It passes understanding). I cannot. Lee cannot. So why was it his brilliant idea? I'll tell you why.

It's because once we get out there, Alicia's in the middle of the lake doing triple axles and whatever other shit she does on skates with her little light pink beret and matching scarf and pea coat…and then there's the twins flashing around the entire lake at lightening speed, pushing over people they don't like. It's impossible to tell which one is which, because they _refuse_ to stop wearing those stupid matching jumpers and hats. Wankers. AND! The reason for Lee's enthusiasm…Angelina is supporting him with a gloved hand around his waste, guiding him as he nearly trips over himself about fifty times.

As for me, no one bothers to look after ridiculous Katie Bell. I'm moving along, inch by inch, with a stupid puffy coat mum bought me and one of Lee's old snow caps. Basically, I would look like a man if it weren't for my hair. I refuse to tuck it up into Lee's cap for fear of being hit on by Marietta Edgecomb. Though there really isn't fear of that, she's tagging along with Roger and trying to fall conveniently in front of George (at least, I _think_ it's George) so that he will catch her. Except he doesn't and she falls and all her curly hair gets chopped off by the blade on George's left skate. And she is bald.

Except, again, that only happens in my head.

What really happens is that Fred sees her at the last second and shoves her out of his way and she falls into a snow bank. Disappointing, but still funny.

I'm annoyed that George isn't taking up his usual habit of pushing me down on my face, so I decide to entice him. I wait until the twins are speeding around me for what feels like the seventy trillionth time and position myself so that I will end up right between them. And there's no way George can resist something so easy.

Except when they come around, George just loops his arm right through mine and Fred follows suit, and George winks at me and is all "Close one, Bell."

CLOSE ONE, BELL!?

"You were supposed to push me down!" I cry angrily, and George just looks confused and is all, "Why would I do that? I like you."

And Fred starts his teasing, so I push him into a snow bank. Except in so doing, I fall too and cut my face on a stray bit of ice.

While Ange skates over with Lee in tow to help her boyfriend up, George helps me up and dusts the snow and blood off my face and just grins at me. Little wanker.

"What are you playing at??" I yell. "Why do you keep being so nice to me!?"

And he winks again and is all, "Because I wanna go out with you, Batie Kell."

And then he blushes.

"I mean, Katie Bell."

I roll my eyes as George takes off his ridiculously long Gryffindor scarf and ties it around my waist.

"What the hell are you doing, George?"

"You'll see," he says, and then takes the spare end and ties it around his wrist and starts skating off again with Fred.

So I'm being towed by the Weasley twins. More specifically, George.

If it was anyone else, I wouldn't have minded. I still look like an idiot, but at least I am not an idiot by myself. And I can stop worrying about falling flat on my face because I don't have to do any work.

But it is George, and I'm mad he's being nice to me.

So I don't complain when Roger Davies manages to untangle himself from Marietta and skate up beside me.

ROGER: Whatcha doing, Katie Bell?

ME: Being towed. I can't skate.

ROGER: You could let me help. I'm a great skater. I always take the less-experienced girls around.

ME: And you think I would like that because…?

ROGER: Because you like me. I know it was you that tried to take my trousers off in Transfiguration. I could show you more than that later, if you want.

I want to throw up all over the ice, but making George mad is too tempting an offer. Besides, then he will fight with me again.

"Alright," I say and Roger sears off George's scarf with his wand and puts his hand around my waist. Well, I think it's my waist anyway. It's hard to tell in the puffy coat.

George notices that my weight is missing and turns around, and I swear, I have _never seen him madder_. I would grin in the ecstasy of my plan being accomplished, but he looks _scary. _Really. His face gets all ugly and he skates over and is all, "What are you doing, _Davies_?"

ROGER: I'm taking a bird for a skate, bugger off, would you Weasley?

GEORGE: Not a chance in hell. You leave Katie alone. She doesn't like you.

ROGER: It's _your _fault, don't blame me. If you hadn't have run off with my bird Marietta in the first place.

GEORGE: _Your_ bird? She was begging for it, mate. Now let Katie go.

I'm watching all this and fearing for Roger's life as George is taller than just about anyone I have ever met, and ugly when he gets mad. Really, everyone says George is more "capable of emotion" than Fred is, but I think it's just that George has more of a temper. Fred's an idiot and thinks everything's funny. That's why he's by the snow bank with Lee and his girlfriend laughing. Alicia's still twirling in the middle of the lake.

Unfortunately, George is a poor marksman and when he goes to deck Roger, he hits him in the jaw but Roger falls back into me and I fall through the ice.

That's right.

I FALL THROUGH THE EFFING ICE!!

Now, this, I feel, is enough to hate George for eternity. Except what I hate him more for is that I can hear him yelling my name through the INSANELY FREEZING WATER and he basically plunges in and pulls me out. Then he slaps me and is like, "Are you alive, Katie, are you alive??"

I shout, "Of course I'm alive, you git, quit slapping me!" and I slap him back.

Fred is still laughing. Moron.

By this time, practically the whole lake comes over and Dumbledore (who has randomly appeared; how does he _do that_??) is shouting that all the students have to come off the lake due to "unsafe conditions". George picks me up and carries me back to the castle.

I yell most of the way there that I have legs and can walk, but then my mouth freezes over and I can't say anything.

I've been thawing by the fire ever since.

Turns out Fred _does _have to go to the Hospital Wing. Everyone goes with him.

Oh, look, here comes George.

XxX

**Even Later…**

**12:08 A.M.**

**Still Common Room**

**But Alone**

…**with BOYFRIEND?!**

I don't know how it happened, thoughts book, but George somehow coerced me into…well…you'll see.

So George comes down and is all "I'm _really_ sorry, Kates," and wraps this blanket around me which miraculously doesn't smell like the rest of his room. It's really soft and sort of frayed at the edges, but I love it.

At the same time it pisses me off. He needs to _stop._

I'm about to tell him this, but he goes and wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer to him and rubs my shoulders. I turn to stare at him incredulously, but when I do he just looks at me and kisses me.

Not the way he did during our snogging period. But different. Softer. A little more hesitant.

I kick him away from me.

"BLOODY HELL, GEORGE, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?" I shout. He just shrugs.

"IF I AGREE TO GO OUT WITH YOU, WILL YOU CUT THIS CRAP? I can't _take_ it anymore!"

He nods vigorously.

"FINE! I'LL BE YOUR STUPID GIRLFRIEND THEN!"

And then he grins and gives me a Wet Willy.

He's a git. But at least he's back.

XxX


	21. Harry Plus Cho Equals GAG TIME

**14 December**

**11:30 A.M.**

**History of Magic**

I know you're concerned about me, thoughts book, but I am perfectly okay. I know, I know, that's surprising considering that I have officially been dating George Weasley for three days, but I'm okay.

In fact, I'd almost say life is _good_.

I mean, it's obviously nothing supremely wonderful, but it's alright. The worst part is getting over everyone's reactions. Everyone was all, "I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT!!! I TOLD YOU THEY FANCIED EACH OTHER!!!" It pissed me off to gratify everyone's suspicions and I tried to break up with George, but he said no. And then we argued for an hour and ended up snogging, which drove everyone else out of the common room.

So, double blessing.

Also, McGonagall—being the creepy witch she is—looked all gratified and said I don't have to write in you anymore, thoughts book. But that only lasted for two days and then George and I got into an argument over where to go this Hogsmeade weekend (he wanted Zonko's, and I wanted the Shrieking Shack) and we ended up pulling out our wands and blasting the chandelier in the Great Hall from the ceiling and it came down and crashed on Colin Creepy and he broke his leg. Naturally, I ran up to him and grabbed his camera and documented the incident for him. Little sucker…

Alicia says that was cruel, but I don't care. Madame Pomfrey healed his leg like two minutes later.

Anyway, so after that, George and I got another week of detention and she says I have to start writing in you again. Apparently dating George does not mean I don't fight with him. I told her, "Go figure," and she took five more points from Gryffindor. So that, along with the fifty I lost for breaking the chandelier brings my total to 305. Only 195 more until my party!!!

So, to get on with the point, thoughts book, the reason I am writing in you at this moment is that I am currently gripping my quill so hard it's about to splinter. Marietta Edgecomb keeps stalking George!!!

That's right, my _boyfriend_ George!!!

She keeps coming into History of Magic (which we don't even _have_ with the Ravenclaws, P.S.) with "notes" for the classmates from Professor Sprout who she apparently assists. I have deduced that they're not real notes because one came for Trisha Midgen that said "Good job with your project in Greenhouse 12!" There is no Greenhouse 12. Also, I got one that said, "You're a bitch."

George just laughed. I smacked him upside the head.

AND!!!

She's hitting on George more than ever. Like she'll come over during breakfast and force herself between us and press her chest out and ask him to open a jar of jam for her. Luckily Lee is the only one salivating and he rushes up to do it for her. Also, she tried to trip me in Transfiguration this morning. I politely remind her that I have set her skirt on fire once and can do it again, and she gets this innocent face on and is like "I don't know what you're talking about, Katie Bell. I didn't try to trip you. George, your little girlfriend is a paranoid freak!"

To which George grins and responds: I know. And pats me on the head.

Little prick. He just leaned over and suggest we stage a covert operation and sneak into the Ravenclaw dorms and drop dung bombs on her from the pipes. I figure this is just an excuse to watch Marietta undress so I slug him.

Binns just looks up and blinks.

XxX

**Later…**

**2:30 P.M.**

**Loo**

I ducked out of the hall really quick to avoid Umbridge. She has been on the prowl to catch George and me together for the past three days. And, as we were just snogging behind a tapestry on the seventh floor, I didn't think it was a good idea to get caught. I've seen what she's done to students who get detention from her—Lee's left hand is all carved up and says "I will not use foul language." I don't need a manifesto on my hand reading "I will not behave like a slut." Imagine the ideas it would give someone like Roger Davies. _Shudder._

I feel slightly refreshed that we're having another D.A. meeting tonight. First, because we're practicing jinxes, which means I can finally have an excuse to let my aim go slightly awry and hex Marietta Edgecomb's face, and second, because George and me always linger afterward and use the room for our own purposes. Out of the sight of Umbridge. Heh heh heh.

Oh gross. Seriously, thoughts book, three days ago I would have killed myself for writing that. I'm slightly ashamed of myself.

XxX

**Even Later…**

**3:30**

**Potions**

**Notes Between the Girls and Me**

**I hope you and George don't keep the D.A. room all to yourselves tonight. Me and Fred want a go.**

Finders, keepers Ange. Why can't you just stay in the Astronomy tower?

**Filch is patrolling it now. There's only time for a quick romp before he'll be up there.**

That's disgusting.

**Why can't we share?**

EW! I'm not having a snog ten feet away from where you and Fred are shagging!

**Godric, Katie, quit being so dramatic. We wouldn't do THAT in front of you. Although George could probably use some pointers from Fred, he's most excellent at ---**

_I'm sorry. I'm not allowing you two to talk about shagging while Snape's fifteen feet away. It's not a good setting._

George and I aren't shagging!!!

XxX

**7:30 P.M.**

**Detention**

Have finished correcting the first year pop quizzes and am waiting for McGonagall to release me. George is off somewhere scrubbing something. We're not allowed to have detention together now that we're dating.

La la la…

XxX

**11:48 P.M.**

**Dorm Room**

Oh sweet Merlin, I have just seen the sickest thing in the world!!!

Okay, back up.

Tonight at the D.A. meeting, I was a little disappointed 'cause we didn't do jinxes like I thought. Harry had us move on to the Patronus Charm. So no hexing Marietta, but I did have the pleasure of seeing her fail miserably at producing a patronus. Ha! She started crying and Cho went over to comfort her. Which is where Harry spent most of the evening. Go figure.

So the lads and Alicia and Angelina and I are in a corner of the room practicing these things. I can't manage to make anything but a few puffs of smoke come out of my wand, and neither can Ange or Lee, but Alicia's patronus is a fat puffy cat which is rolling around in the air and playing with a ball of yarn. HA! Figures…The twins have managed to produce theirs; they have matching foxes which start chasing Alicia's cat.

I'm frustrated and plop down on the nearest pouf. "How come I can't do it??" I pout, folding my arms.

The twins plop down on either side of me.

"Just think of a happy thought, Katie Kate!" Fred says, flicking his long hair out of his face.

"You're _my_ happy thought, Kates," George says smarmily, puckering up his lips in a ridiculous manner and batting his eyelashes. I push him off the pouf.

Alica flicks her wand and her cat disappears. "I've got an idea," she says as Ange and Lee are switching wands to see if they can produce theirs better with a different wand.

"What?" I ask, eager to produce a patronus to go attack George's.

"Well…you're always happiest when you're angry…"

"That is not true!"

"Yes it is," everyone chorused, looking up from what they were doing. I am silenced. Alicia continues.

"So think of a time you've been really cruel! That will make you happy!"

I make a face at her, but I try it. I imagine Marietta Edgecomb screaming and running out of the Transfiguration room, hands clasped around her flaming buttocks. I laugh maliciously.

_Exepcto Patronum!_

And it works! Except what bursts out of the end of my wand isn't a ferocious lion or wildebeest. It's a little furry bunny rabbit.

"WHAT???" I yell so loudly that most of the room looks up. A few people laugh. "That's lamer than Alicia's!"

"Hey!"

George throws an arm around my neck and thrusts me to his side. "Nicely done, Kates!"

I shove him away, and hide in a corner and continue to pout. Naturally, no one comes to comfort me.

I watch as Ange finally manages to produce a leopard and Lee gives up. The meeting disperses and everyone starts to head to the door. The twins appear to be attacking Harry with more offers of ridiculous pranks to play on Umbridge, and he attempts to shrug them off (smart lad), but most of his attention is directed at Cho Chang who is hanging back. I roll my eyes. Stupid pre-teen romance.

It takes George all the way to the door to realize I'm missing, and then, almost as an afterthought, he turns back and walks around the room to where I'm sitting. Harry and Cho are in their own world and don't seem to notice the idiotic lanky redhead. Or me, for that matter.

"Kates," George says as he gets to me. "Still up for a good snog tonight? Room's almost empty."

I glare at him.

"Oh come on, Kates, No one cares that your patronus is a bunny. So was Luna Lovegood's."

I burst into tears. "Luna Lovegood's was a hare! Mine was a floppy, fluffy bunny!"

George doesn't appear to know what to do. He pats me awkwardly on the shoulder and hands me a tissue. Then he claps a hand over my mouth. I'm instantly angry.

Me: MMPH!

George: No, Kates, look.

He points a finger over to a corner of the room as Cho (who's still here) approaches Harry. I shrug his hand off of me.

Me: We've gotta get out of here. I don't wanna see this.

George nods and we start to rise, but as we do, Cho bursts into loud, noisy tears.

George: Poor lad. I know what that's like.

Me: -Slugs him-

George: Oh shit, we're stuck.

And we are. 'Cause at that moment, Harry and Cho start snogging and there's no way we're getting up and betraying ourselves as being in the room during all of this.

I want to throw up in my mouth. It's nothing horrid at first, but then Harry's tongue is suddenly out before even meeting Cho's mouth and they're at each other like wolves. George and I duck behind a couch and gag. He starts rolling on the floor hissing that his eyes are burning. Then the noises start.

I want to cry, it's so painfully awkward. George and I are screwing up our eyes and stuffing our fingers in our ears. Then after a few minutes, he shoves me with his shoulder and I look over at him.

"We've got to be safe now," he mouths and I nod and we both take our fingers out of our ears.

And this is what we overhear.

"No, Harry, it's fine. Role play is fun. Me and Ced did it all that time."

I open my mouth to scream, but George quickly claps a hand over my mouth and shakes his head violently. We sink even lower behind the couch.

"Erm…I dunno, Cho, I think I'm gonna go now…Ron and Hermione will be waiting for me…"

"Smart bastard," hisses George. "I've snogged her. Chang's kinky."

I knee him in the stomach, and we hear a door open so we peek out over the couch just in time to see Cho grab Harry by his cloak and lick the side of his face. Then he dashes out and Cho follows a few seconds later.

When all is clear, George and I stand up and scream.

Me: I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT HAPPENED!!!

George: I KNOW, I KNOW! FILTH! AWWWWW!

Me: Ange and Fred are nothing compared to that!

George: Ange and Fred aren't a tenth of that!

Me: And they weren't even shagging!

George: Mine eyes, Mine eyes!!!

After we recover, and mutually agree that any snogging tonight is out of the question, we head back to the Gryffindor Common Room where Harry is sitting, shell-shocked, in front of the fire. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are on the couch facing him.

Ron: So mate, how was it?

Harry: -thinks-Wet.

George leans close to me and whispers, "Damn right, wet. If you ever try to lick me, I'll hit you over the head with my bludger's bat so fast you won't know what happened." I shove him into a wall.

"Like I would ever!" I hiss.

But Harry appeared to have enjoyed it, because a few minutes later, the three fifth years were all laughing. George and I shuddered, he pecked me on the forehead, and we went up to our dorms.

I barely even noticed Fred and Ange in the corner after that.

Merlin help me if George and I EVER get that way.

XxX


	22. Slytherin Expedition

**A/N: Thanks for the faithful reviews, my loves! I have to admit, I was pretty amused by those of you that were angry about the Harry/Cho episode last chapter. Ha ha. I warned you, I wasn't going to make this a serious story. I've clearly taken liberties with a lot of the characters, and Cho…well, she seemed like she'd make a good nympho. HA! But for those of you that laughed, thanks. Remember to read & review!**

**16 December**

**9:10 A.M.**

**Transfiguration**

The twins are up to something. I can tell 'cause their heads are bent together and they're whispering to each other, and Angelina and Alicia are throwing disapproving looks. I wish I could hear. McGonagall assigned me the "special seat" because my old one was too close to Marietta Edgecomb, and she said I was interfering with her safety and well-being. Tosh.

The "special seat" is next to McGonagall's desk.

George laughs and sticks his tongue out at me. I give him the finger when McGonagall's back is turned.

XxX

**Later…**

**11:45 A.M.**

**Charms**

Have figured out the Weasley scheme.

Fred threw his arm around me after Transfiguration which caused George to do exactly the same thing, leaving me basically gagging between them. Wankers. Anyway, Fred is all, "So Katie Kate, want in on a delicious plot?"

"It's going to be delightfully wicked," supplies George.

I tell them I'm not helping them figure out how to sneak into the girl's dormitory and they look offended.

"But we've known how to do that for years!" protests Fred.

Apparently last night Draco Malfoy and a band of his fellow Slytherin Inquisitorial Squad members threatened Fred and George with detention and confiscating all their joke shop products while they were playing with their fireworks in the Entrance Hall. Yeah, thoughts book, _playing._ They're really mature. The worst part is that all the younger students think they're brilliant and follow them everywhere they go and mimic their movements. It's disgusting, really. I tried to break up with George again yesterday because I told him I couldn't be dating a celebrity, but he wouldn't let me. Again. Damn.

But I digress.

So anyway, Fred and George get angry and George wants to hex him, but Fred's all "Wait, I have a better idea."

Apparently Fred's better idea was to wait until they came up with a better idea because it took them eight hours. But anyway, they decide instead of risking detention to suck it up and do an old fashioned raid on Slytherin house and the members of the squad.

GEORGE: So you want in?

ME: But you and Fred haven't asked me to do any pranking with you since third year.

FRED: Exactly! It's high time we reunited!

ME: Lee said it was 'cause I made too much noise.

GEORGE: Well, you do. But we decided to give you a second shot.

ME: Let me interpret that…Lee's busy.

FRED: Well…sort of…he's actually going on a date tonight, so we had to ask you.

ME: WHAT??

The conversation paused briefly as I proceeded to whack Fred over the head with my book bag. And then George for good measure. After George manages to pin me against the castle all, I consider what they've just said.

ME: Wait…Lee has a date??

GEORGE: Yup. With Haley DeVaccio.

ME: That obnoxious Ravenclaw???

FRED: Precisely. So will you help us, Katie Kate?

ME: How did Lee get a date with Haley DeVaccio? Why would he _want_ one? She's so snooty! All high and mighty with her straights 'O's and perfectly white straight teeth.

GEORGE: You jealous, Bell?

ME: Of Lee going out with her? Oh gross, no!

GEORGE: No, that you have rubbish teeth that are all brown and crooked.

ME: I DO NOT!

FRED: Silence, you two! Fight or flirt or whatever the hell it is you're doing on your own time…so what do you say, Katie? Old fashioned Slytherin raid? Just like old times?

ME: I'm over Slytherins.

GEORGE: You are not. You're the one that hung Malfoy from the goal hoops by his shoe laces, remember?

I huff. "What do you need me for anyway?" I ask. I actually intend on saying yes, I just want them to beg.

"To carry stuff," Fred answers. I scoff. "Why can't you do that yourselves?"

"Because we have finely honed senses of secrecy and stealth," George answers. "We can't afford to be cumbered down by the grunt work. That's why we need you hiding in the pipes with the stuff!"

"The pipes!" I shout, but Fred quickly claps his hand over my mouth as Malfoy and a bunch of his nasty mates pass.

"That's right," he says, then grins. "So what do you say, Katie Kate? You in?"

I frown and then remember something. "I can't," I say. "I have detention with Filch tonight."

George has already served his detention for today. He did it this morning in the kitchens. McGonagall made him help the house elves prepare breakfast. Consequently, my morning porridge had a loogie in it along with a note that said "Love, George." See what I have to put up with, thoughts book???

The twins grin. "Not a problem," George says.

I pity Filch.

XxX

**Later…**

**12:53 A.M.**

**Loo**

**Waiting to Climb into the Pipes**

As much as I hate the Weasleys as a general rule, I have to admire them for how they broke me out of detention tonight.

I was polishing the school trophies in the trophy room while Filch skulked around like a disease right outside when I heard something that sounded like happiness. I wasn't sure 'cause Filch is never happy unless a student breaks a bone or something, so I went out to see who the poor lad was. Turns out no one was in mortal peril; Filch had this nasty grin across his face so that I could see his crooked stained teeth. All four of them. And he was clutching this horrifying box of chocolates wrapped in a ribbon with a tag that indicated it was from Umbridge.

I thought I was gonna throw up. Honestly. Ange and I have been kicking around the idea of Filch banging Umbridge for a couple of months now, but here was the sodding proof! I almost drop my polishing rag to go find her and tell her the horrid news when I see two red haired heads peek around the corner with expectant grins on their faces.

I stifle my laughter and turn my attention to Filch as he practically shovels the things down his greedy throat. About three seconds later, his face started erupting in pustules the size of that zit I had a few weeks ago, and some of them are actually squirting puss on the floor. He screams with impressive decibels, throws up his arms, and goes running down the hallway. Fred and George collapse on the ground in a fit of laughter, and I'm torn between the urge to vomit and the urge to jump George for being so clever. I find middle ground by walking over and kicking him in the gut.

"That was disgusting!" I shout. "Couldn't you think of a _less_ hygienically offensive way of busting me out of detention??"

"It was brilliant, admit it, Katie Kate!" Fred shouts as George struggles to regain breath after my attack.

It sort of was. After he recovers, I toss George into a nearby broom cupboard and have a quick snog as Fred goes off to find dark clothes and black paint for our nightly adventure.

Angelina and Alicia will have nothing to do with the plot. The lads already begged them, but they both turned their noses up at the idea. Ange doesn't want to get kicked out of captaincy I don't think, and Alicia actually has morals—odd, but true. So the twins and I set out of the common room around twelve thirty. We smear black paint over each other's faces and George decides to sport a black beret he thinks makes him look especially devious. Fred and I just stare at him.

Fred directs me to enter the pipes at precisely one o'clock while he and George slip off down some corridor I didn't know existed. So here I am, waiting.

Damn. I'm four minutes late. Better go.

XxX

**Even Later…**

**2:30 A.M.**

**Back, Safe in Dorm Room**

OH, SWEET GODRIC!

My heart is beating about five zillion times a minute! I haven't had that much fun since I pushed Freddy Minkus from the tree in our third year.

But I digress.

Fred and George chastised me for being late with the duffel bag, but I don't care. We sneaked through the pipes up to where Malfoy and his drones slept and Fred pulled out some rope and slid down into the room to survey the situation. Then he tugged once on the rope: the signal for George to come down.

"You know…I may die down there," George says seriously. "It would be nice to have a good snog before I go."

"You're an idiot," I retort, and practically push him down the open panel of the pipe. A couple of minutes later, there are two tugs on the rope and I slide down into the dark room.

The Slytherin dorms are hell. Everything's covered in green, and it smells even worse than Fred and George and Lee's dorm. Stacks of porn magazines are covered with dirty underthings and old food. I turn up my noise and am about to declare myself to throw up, but George grabs me around the waist and claps a hand over my mouth. Then I remember why they don't invite me on these things anymore.

After a couple of seconds, George releases me and the twins start getting out the supplies. They really are damn good at this kind of thing. They look like cats and I think my breathing was louder than any of their rummaging around in the duffel bag. I take the opportunity to look around the room.

Draco Malfoy looks like a vampire. He's wearing SILK pajamas, little gay bastard, and his hair is pushed back. He sleeps with his hands folded across his chest. I half expect his bed to be a coffin, but it isn't. Oh well.

The bloke called Goyle is a fat wanker, sprawled across his bed, chocolate smeared around his mouth. Crabbe is sucking his thumb. A couple other blokes I don't recognize are equally disgusting. I wonder what Fred and George can do to possibly make this room more horrifying than it already is.

I underestimate them, though. "The supplies" end up being Colin Creepy and his camera. That's right, thoughts book, I was hauling around an immobilized Colin Creepy through the pipes of Hogwarts. This is what I get for being friends with the Weasley twins.

I open my mouth to shout, but again one of them grabs me—I think it's Fred—and covers my mouth. George takes out his wand and starts to levitate Malfoy out of his bed. My eyes widen. The little prick doesn't make a sound. George places him in the bed with Goyle, levitates Goyle's left arm so it's over Malfoy's body and intertwines their legs. Then he takes out a rose and slips it in Malfoy's clasped hands.

Fred looks at me and nods to make sure I'm catching onto their plan and I nod back. We set to work levitating the Slytherins in bed with each other and arranging them so they look like they're poofs. None of them wake up. Later, George says he drugged them at dinner. I'm not surprised. For added measure, we pin their Inquisitorial Squad pins on their pajamas.

Then Fred unfreezes Colin Creepy and hands him his camera. He looks dazed and then says, "Hey! Look at the Hogwarts Inquisitorial Squad!" and starts snapping away like mad.

Naturally, the Slytherins wake up. George immobilizes Colin again and shoves him in the bag, and we all dart up the ropes back into the pipes. The Slytherins are freaking out at being in bed with each other, and I think they see the panel on the pipe close 'cause few minutes later we hear angry voices and people crawling behind us. Luckily, Fred and George are freaks and know lots of secret passageways, including exits and entrances to the pipe system. So we drop out in the middle of the corridor on the Seventh Floor and dash back to our common room, panting hard.

Fred smiles fondly at the pictures as he takes them out of Colin Creepy's camera and announces that he's going to go hang them up around the castle.

George performs a memory charm on Colin Creepy and puts him to bed as I wait in the common room. We celebrate our victory with a bottle of butterbeer George stashed in his room somewhere (I don't ask) and wait for Fred to get back.

George kisses me and I blush, for some crazy reason.

It was a great night.

XxX


	23. Loads of Mail and One Worthless Mum

**A/N: I'm aware that I've taken ages on this. I went through kind of a nasty little break-up & it sort of sucked the funny out of me that I need to write this story, I suppose. Still hope people are reading this…please read & review. Cheers!**

**17 December **

**11:30 A.M.**

**Transfiguration**

This morning at breakfast Dumbledore addressed Hogwarts on "Tolerance and Acceptance at School." He completely sidestepped the fact that someone (and by someone I mean Fred, George, and me) clearly broke into the Slytherin dorms to come up with those pictures, and that at the very least they were distributed school wide. He concerned himself more with the fact that all of Hogwarts was laughing at them. It's totally obvious that he's seeing himself as this great giant savior of the young budding homosexuals in Slytherin.

Yeah right, Dumbledore.

Malfoy and crew keep threatening to beat up anyone who even looks at them for too long. Dumbledore thinks it's relational aggression due to being outed. McGonagall and Snape seem less certain. They keep glaring down at Fred and George, and sometimes Lee. But they can't say anything because Dumbledore, oh oneness, is their boss and most trusted advisor. Suckers. Naturally, the twins and I are pleased.

"Excellent work, George dear," Fred says as he hands George the marmalade.

"Why thank you, Fred dear," George returns, accepting.

"And don't think we're forgetting about you, Katie Kate," Fred grins.

"Yes, couldn't have done it without you, love," George sniggers.

I shrug, demurring. "Oh you know, I do what I can," I say modestly, whilst not being so modest at all.

Angelina scoffs. "You three disgust me," she says self-righteously while buttering her toast. "Could you really not think of a better way to blow off some steam? You could've played quidditch!"

"Yes, Ange, but we didn't _want_ to play quidditch," George explains slowly. "We wanted to make the castle think ickle Draco and his crew were homo_sexual_." He emphasizes the last part.

"So we did," Fred says simply, roughly kissing Ange on her temple.

"Well if anyone finds out, you could get suspended," she continues sternly. "And then where will my quidditch team be?"

"Suspended?" I answer stupidly.

"I miss quidditch with Oliver," Alicia sighs ridiculously.

"Or I could play!" Lee interjects.

This time, Ange really does laugh. "Yeah, right," she says. "What would you do? You'd get knocked off your broom in five seconds flat!"

"I would not!" he protests.

"Oh look, the mail!" Alicia cries gleefully.

Alicia is always excited about the mail. That's because she always expects stuff from Wood. She writes him fanmail about a dozen times a week. She doesn't think we notice, but I know she does it during study hall and I know it's not her homework because she uses bright pink ink. Disgusting.

Alicia's fluffy white owl drops a postcard in her lap which she squeals over.

"He wrote me!" she cries.

"Let me see that," George says and snatches it out of her hands. He holds it so I can see as well.

There's a picture of Oliver on the side grinning while zooming around the goal posts. Puddlemore United's seal is at the bottom. On the opposite end is printed in blatantly generic handwriting: "Thanks for writing! I _love_ hearing from all of you. –Oliver Wood."

George and I exchange glances. Fred looks at it next, then Ange. Lee sees it and busts up laughing. Smooth, Lee. Very smooth.

"What?" Alicia cries.

"Um, 'Leesh," Ange says all motherly. Godric, it scares me how the girl can go from super-anal-quidditch-captain mode to I-care-about-everyone's-welfare mode. "Honey…this is a mass produced postcard Oliver sends out through Puddlemore to everyone who writes to him."

"Nuh-uh!" Alicia protests stupidly. "He wouldn't!"

I roll my eyes. "_Wouldn't_ he? That bloke has an ego the size of—"

"Katie," Angelina says sternly, giving George a significant look.

George nods and puts a hand over my mouth. I slug him in the gut and he kicks me in the shin. We start pulling on each other's hair and then notice that everyone is staring at us.

"Done?" Lee asks. We exchange glances and then nod.

"Alicia," Fred says, "Oliver wrote that he loves hearing from _all of you_."

"Yeah," Alicia simpers. "Isn't that cute? He loves _all of me_. And you guys said this would never happen!"

I scoff and George covers it up by saying "Congratulations, Leesh!"

I may not get mail, but at least I'm not a psychopath who fawns over my mass-produced fanmail responses.

XxX

**Later…**

**2:30 P.M.**

**Study Hall**

I told George earlier that snogging wasn't as fun now that we were dating. He agreed. I suggested we break up to remedy the situation. Of course, he said no. George will never let me break up with him. Bastard.

Instead, he says he wants to—and I quote—"make sweet, sweet love." I just stare at him.

Then he suggests we just cuddle more. Sadly, he's serious about this one. George loves cuddling. I have to push him off me sometimes. It's annoyingly sappy. I know if we ever spent the night together, he would end up nuzzling into my shoulder or something.

I ask Ange if Fred does this. She just rolls her eyes exasperatedly. I decide that this either means Fred does, and she hates it just as much as I do, or that I'm distracting her while she's trying to transfigure a toad into a Sunday bonnet. (Her Sunday bonnet ended up having warts. I laughed.)

Anyway. It doesn't matter whether or not I prefer snogging George the git over George the boyfriend, because Umbridge is enforcing her decree banning "blatant displays of affection" to extend to Common Rooms. Hey…that could make it more exciting. Hmm.

Maybe George and I could snog in the vents.

XxX

**4 Minutes Later**

I told George about the vent idea. He said it was dusty. I reminded him that the space up there is very limited, and he changed his mind.

XxX

**9:30 P.M.**

**Dorm**

**Bed**

Dinner was not my favorite. Apart from being served sock-eyed salmon (which I hate—the thought of the fish on my plate once being slimy and covered in scales, trashing around madly makes me ill. I mean, whose brilliant idea was it to eat something that swims around in its own pee and excrement???? But I digress.) So yes. Apart from being served sock-eyed salmon (note how I didn't include another long story about sock-eyed salmon, thoughts book), the _sodding Weasley twins got mail_.

Why does everyone get mail but me?!

Angelina gets the Daily Prophet so she can be all noble and "informed." Lee has some Russian pen pal named Darinka who is insanely too good looking for him but still refers to him as "Lee Darling," (read: Lee Dah-ling) and talks about how she can't date Russian blokes anymore. The number of women Lee beds astounds me; the number of women he beds who are spectacularly too good for him…well, that ratio is almost 100 percent.

Either way my friends' sexual exploits disgust me, I must say, thoughts book. Good thing there's me, George, and Alicia to uphold the honor of virginity. Actually, I have no clue if George is a virgin. I think it's best I don't ask. As for Alicia, I _know _that girl is. And I'll know when she gets laid too—no non-virgin has fluffy pink bunny slippers. So the moment those go out, I will know that I'm the last pillar of decency.

Or something like that.

Anyway. Sodding Weasley twins. And their mail.

It was just from their mother, but—_she invited Ange and I to spend winter holiday with them!_

Now, ordinarily I would be thrilled with an invitation to the Weasleys. I've never been. Fred and George only ever invite _Lee_ in the summers. They say it's because we're girls. Tosh. I know for a fact Hermione Granger summers there and her and Ron Weasley have more sexual tension between them than Dumbledore and the head bus boy at Madame Puttifoot's.

But I digress.

The reason I am _angry_ (sorry for cutting through the page there, thoughts book. I was trying to control my suppressed RAGEEEE. Anyway.) is because this invitation means I'm some kind of charity case. Let's face it. The Weasleys basically collect kids. I haven't the foggiest fart in space as to an idea _why _this is—you would think seven million children is enough. I don't know, maybe they want a little diversity—break up the pale clammy skin, ridiculous loads of freckles, and flaming red hair, maybe. But the fact of the matter is that the so-called Burrow is basically a charity home for losers who don't have anywhere else to go on Holiday. Like Hermione Granger, as previously mentioned, whose parents mysteriously disappear on _skiing _holiday every Christmas—code for not wanting their child around. And Harry Potter who, as much as I appreciate and esteem the lad, is basically a mentally abused shut-in from Surrey.

No. Katie Bell has family. Katie Bell will spend her lovely holiday _with_ said family and not be reduced to the status of an honorary Weasley.

Ange says she's going, as we've been dying to see the inside of the Burrow our whole school career. She doesn't care what her parents say.

George keeps begging me to go. Example:

GEORGE: _Pleeeease_, Kates.

ME: No.

GEORGE: _Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease_, Kates.

ME: Why the hell d'you want me there anyway?

GEORGE: Christmas with my woman! A little fire, a little mistletoe, a _very _little clothing…

ME: I'm glad you esteem my conversational skills so highly.

GEORGE: Mum makes great mince pies.

ME: …And?

GEORGE: And cobbler. And honey ham. And stuffing.

ME: Stuffed olives?  
GEORGE: Like rabbits make babies!  
ME: No.

GEORGE: Katie!

FRED: If you can't win her through her stomach, mate, it's a lost cause.

I give Fred the finger and go to bed. Ange keeps begging me to come with her. She's nervous to meet Mrs. Weasley alone.

XxX

**18 December**

**9:00 A.M.**

**History of Magic**

I hate my mother. I _hate hate hate hate hate hate hate_ my mother. And Neville Longbottom.

Suffice it to say that the following letter came in the mail today. I'll paste it in. Of _course_ when I get mail, it's a load of effing rubbish.

_Katie Dear,_

_The cross of Unifolium Bifolium and the American Raccoon has been a success! Soon there will be little Raccifoliums all buzzing about our front yard. In fact, it's gone so well that the Ministry has partnered with Hogwarts and given us an opportunity to house an intern from your school over the winter holiday to observe the benefits of bi-botany transposition! _

_His name is Neville Longbottom, and I can already tell he's going to be a most promising young man! The only little hitch here is that since it's only your bedroom and ours in the house (the guest is being renovated—one of the Raccifoliums got sick), Neville will be sleeping in your bedroom over holiday. But, I'm sure you can stay at Hogwarts over the break or spend Christmas with one of your fine friends you're always prattling away about. You'll understand—you've always been so good about our little experiments!_

_Your father sends his love. He's currently away at a Pride of Portee fan convention in Bristol—but I'm sure you've seen. He's on page A7 of the Daily Prophet in his Pride of Portee long johns! _

_If all goes well, we will see you next at Easter Holiday._

_Love, _

_Mum_

_P.S. You don't mind if Neville uses your Christmas sock, do you dear?_

I read the letter, shrieked, tore it up, and hurled it into the air and sat fuming.

Colin Creepy shouts, "It's snowing! Cool!"

Alicia mends the letter with a swish of her wand and my so-called friends read it.

Down the table, Neville Longbottom shrieks and waves a letter. "I got in! I'm interning with Isabella Shizengamot Bell! The famous herbologist!"

Across the table, George gets up and does a victory jig.

I tell him he looks gay. He keeps dancing.

XxX


	24. Blood Sucking, Garlic, and Snape?

**A/N: This chapter is incredibly off the wall, and probably a result of copious amounts of sugar. Do your best to employ that wonderful device called "suspension of disbelief," & focus on the few funny bits because I'm far too lazy to go back and make it more clever. And to all my fellow Americans…Happy Late Independence Day! Yay!**

**19 December **

**11:20 A.M. **

**Common Room**

**Listening to George Whine**

It turns out that George is somehow opposed to my plan to stay in the castle over Winter Holiday. Actually, everyone is opposed to that plan. Lee and Alicia both keep threatening to kidnap me and take me home with them if I refuse to go to the Burrow. And Fred says he's making a nice Katie-sized space in his suitcase. George keeps petrifying me and they're always about to stuff me in said space when their roommate Ignatio Palento finds out and stops them. Normally, I hate Ignatio Palento. He's a Prefect, so naturally he incurs my wrath frequently, but if he's going to save me from status of lame adopted Weasley, he can stay.

Tomorrow is the last day of classes before Winter Holiday, and what do you know—Double Potions. Of _course_ we have Double Potions to end classes with. How could we _possibly_ expect to have an enjoyable holiday without Severus Snape looming over it, casting his joy, gladness, and cheer on our souls? Yeah—you could cut the cheer with a knife.

But I must put you away now, thoughts book, and deal with George in what McGonagall would deem a rational manner—i.e. not stuffing my socks down his throat to shut him up.

Perhaps I shall snog him instead. Or, go to Charms class as it is now time.

XxX

**Later…**

**1:30 P.M.**

**Study Hall**

Have signed the list for students staying over Winter Holiday. It's kind of a pathetic list so far. Me and one third-year Hufflepuff tosser plus a few Slytherins. But I shall not relent. I refuse to be the pitied friend that needs invited over for Holiday.

I sent my mother a Howler today. Knowing my luck, one of the little raccofoliums will digest it before she even opens it.

XxX

**3:30 P.M.**

**Defense Against The Dark Arts**

Have forgotten my notebook in my dorm, so am forced to use you to take notes in or else Umbridge will do her nut. Sorry, thoughts book.

_VAMPIRES_

_-Avoid sunlight—probably have pale, sallow skin_

_-Don't have a reflection_

_-Garlic repels them_

_-Prefer to live in cool, damp areas—probably a basement of a house or dungeons in a castle_

_-Survive on the blood of others_

_-Usually puncture the throat with teeth; they go for the jugular_

**Oh my God, Snape is a vampire!!!**

_Shut up, George. Write in your own damn book._

**No, really Kates—look at the signs. Pale, sallow skin…lives in the dungeons…he probably **_**doesn't**_** have a reflection, based on his appearance…**

_Is it possible you're so addled that you actually think our Potions professor is a vampire?_

**Is it possible you're so blind you don't see the signs???**

_You're an idiot, George._

**Spend Christmas with me, Kates.**

_I wouldn't spend Christmas with you if the world were flooded with piss and you lived in a tree._

**I love you too, dear.**

Stupid George. At least Umbridge just took points from him for not keeping his eyes on his own work. Heh heh heh…I dunno where else she'd have him carve that, though. His hands are already both full; his right hand says "I will not make inappropriate gestures to young ladies," and his left says, "I will not turn my classmates into flowered hats." It's how the girls and I are better able to tell the twins apart now—Fred's say "I will not offer my body in exchange for late homework," and "I will not issue commentary on Angelina Johnson's figure."

Ange wasn't too happy about that one, go figure.

XxX

**Even Later**

**11:30 P.M.**

**Dorm Room**

Today at dinner, I watched Flitwick pass Snape the garlic mashed potatoes, and he refused. He said he was allergic to garlic.

….

But no.

XxX

**20 December**

**10:30 A.M.**

**Transfiguration**

McGonagall's giving this really boring lecture about behaving over the holidays, and upholding the honor of Gryffindor and all this other rubbish. George is currently offering me unfettered access to his body over Holiday if I agree to go to the Burrow, but rest assured that I am being stalwart, thoughts book.

GEORGE: I'll never say no to snogging, Kates, I promise.

ME: George, you never say no to snogging _now_.

GEORGE: Good point. I'll let _you _say no to snogging!

ME: I just clock you in the jaw if I'm not in the mood, and you know it.

FRED: If you come, Kates, I'll let you snog _me._

ME: Why is EVERYTHING _ALWAYS_ about snogging!? Godric Gryffindor!

ALICIA: Don't take the Founder of Our House's name in vain!

FRED: Well we could make it about shagging, Kates, but I don't think George or Ange would appreciate it if we did that. Much as we may want to ourselves.

GEORGE: Yeah, if you shag him, I may be forced to throw you out in the snow.

ME: Oh good, you and my mother both.

GEORGE: _Kaaates_. You don't want to spend the holidays alone…especially with a vampire on the loose!  
ANGE: Who's a vampire?

ME: -Rolls Eyes- George thinks Snape is a vampire.

ANGE: Oh my God, he totally could be! I heard he could turn into a bat!

My friends are morons. Ironically, amidst all of this, McGonagall notices and takes House Points away from Lee, who is sleeping. Stupid friends. Stupid life.

XxX

**Later…**

**2:30 P.M.**

**Double Potions**

I'm writing this in secret so that none of my mates see it, but…

When Snape walked in, he had red stains down the sides of his cheeks. When someone pointed it out, he wiped them off and said it was wine. The twins gave me significant looks. I'm sure George is having a go at me, but just in case…I'm carrying a crucifix over Holiday.

XxX

**Later**

**4:30 P.M.**

**Girls' Toilet**

I had to duck in because I just passed Snape in the hallways and he was absolutely, definitely tell Professor Sinistra that he was "more of a night person!" Godric, George must be right! He's an idiot, but oh my God…my potions master is a vampire!!!

I'm digging out Alicia's crucifix _right now._

XxX

**21 December **

**12:00 Noon**

**On Train to Burrow**

**Next to Idiotic, Manically Grinning Boyfriend**

Yeah, thoughts book, you read that right. I'm going to the Burrow for Holiday. I got kicked out of staying at Hogwarts…Professor Dumbledore said Snape and I needed "a little time apart to gain perspective."

I'm not really in the mood to explain what happened as it is not flattering to myself, but the alternative is conversing with the obnoxiously triumphant George Weasley, watching Fred and Ange snog, or listening to Alicia and Lee complain about their own failed attempts at lasting romance. I repeat…why is _EVERYTHING_ about snogging and dating with these people???

Okay. So here's what happened.

So I dig out Alicia's crucifix from her dresser drawer, put it on, and head to dinner. I mean, I still don't think George is clever enough to have figured out that Snape was a vampire on his own, but I think he has stumbled across a distinct possibility. Even complete morons do that from time to time. And I'm not taking my chances, you know? So I'm at dinner and Fred is quizzing Ange over various details of the Weasley family (Ange can be obnoxiously fastidious, and is obsessed with knowing all of the Weasleys' genealogy before she visits them) and George is sulking because he's given up his efforts to get me to come home with him, so I have free reign to observe Snape. Hell, I figure maybe I'm crazy, but people will appreciate Katie Van Helsing when the strange plague is stopped from spreading around Hogwarts, right?! I mean, they'll practically canonize me. I'd be a like a Saint or something. Maybe I'd even get one of those shiny plaques with my name on it…and then when George gets detention, he can polish it. Sucker…

Snape passes on the garlic mashed potatoes again, and I watch him closer. How have I not observed this before?! To test the power of Alicia's crucifix, I take it out, aim it so the light catches on it, and point it toward Snape. He winces.

There is now no doubt in my mind that Snape is a vampire. I'm looking at his pale skin, the way his canine teeth seem especially pointed, and his bat-like qualities, when out of nowhere he sinks straight toward McGonagall's neck!!!

Now, I'm no real friend of Minerva McGonagall as you know, thoughts book, but _no one_ deserves to be turned into the Un-Dead! _And_ at Christmas! So I leap up from Gryffindor Table, whip out the crucifix, and yell, "STOP, UNHOLY DEMON OF THE INFERNAL PIT!!!!" And the entire school turns to look at me. I expect them to praise me immediately, but they just stare. Somewhere, I hear George laugh.

Professor Dumbledore looks up, blinks a few times, and then looks from Snape to me and says, "Miss Bell, can Professor Snape or I aid in you something?"

At which point I proceed to explain that Snape is a vampire. Except I don't think he gets it because I say, "Snape's a vampire, Professor! He was trying to bite McGonagall's neck!" and he just smiles and asks me and Snape to step into his office while he "attends to calming down the student population."

I sulk, but back away from the staff table and head for Dumbledore's office. George turns to me as I walk by. "You moron!" he says. "I was only _joking!_" I give him the finger and proceed.

Snape's already sitting in one of the swivelly chairs opposite Dumbledore's desk when I arrive. He does not look pleased. He also does not look like a vampire. As I see him next to the backdrop of a Christmas tree, I feel slightly foolish. My conviction of his true nature ebbs slightly.

"Er…hot chocolate?" I say congenially as I walk over to where Dumbledore keeps a hot chocolate machine in all months of the year. I begin to rifle through his things and prepare three mugs of hot chocolate. I plop marshmallows in each, and make sure to add a candy cane and exactly three shots of caramel to Dumbledore's before I reach in his drawer and pull out a coaster. Snape observes me shrewdly.

"What?" I ask, blankly. "Dumbledore likes his exactly this way."

He continues to look at me.

"It's possible I'm in here too often," I admit.

"So it would seem," he mutters.

I push a mug toward him but he doesn't touch it. I sink into a chair beside him and wait for Dumbledore.

"Sorry I called you a vampire in front of the whole school," I say awkwardly. "George Weasley said you were and I thought you might be."

He grunts in reply.

"I like the black cloak fasteners to go with your black cape," I offer as a follow up to the apology. "It really ties together the whole 'doom and gloom' look of the rest of your ensemble."

He finally looks up with a look like he wants to eat me when Dumbledore walks in. He has that amused look on his face that he always does when I come to see him.

"Ah, I see you've already prepared my hot chocolate, Miss Bell," he says pleasantly. "And exactly the way I like it, too. A manner in which the House Elves never seem to manage."

"A product of our many joyful conferences, Professor," I say sweetly. Snape now looks like he's restraining himself from doing something he may regret. Like impaling me on a spear. I shudder.

"Miss Bell, Professor Snape is not a vampire," he says matter-of-factly. "Isn't that so, Severus?"

Again, he grunts.

"_Severus_?" Dumbledore presses again.

"I am not a vampire," he says. He says it in that slow and obnoxious voice he uses when he disdains someone.

"Why were you trying to bite McGonagall's neck then?" I say curiously. Hey, while I'm here, I figure I might as well get answers.

"_Professor_ McGonagall, Katie," Dumbledore reminds me. Dumbledore's always doing that. Like the most important thing in the world is that we remember that somone's a professor. _Please_.

"I was merely leaning over to _whisper_ something to Minerva," Snape says through his teeth.

"Are you really allergic to garlic??"

"Yes." He's practically seething, the overgrown bat.

"And why do you sleep in the dungeons?"

"I teach _Potions_, Miss Bell, if that has failed to escape your notice over the past seven years."

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore says cheerfully. "Let's not get testy. Anything else, Miss Bell?"

"Yeah, what about the red stains on your mouth?" I continue.

"_Wine_, as I said earlier."

"Severus is a rather uncoordinated beverage consumer I'm afraid," Dumbledore practically beams. Snape looks coordinated enough to karate chop old Albus at the moment.

"And can you really turn into a bat?" I finish.

He looks up at me in a mixture of bewilderment and disdain, but the disdain part is a lot greater, so I pick up my things and run out the door.

"Um…bye!" I say.

That's when Professor Dumbledore says that to "alleviate tension" between the two of us, I probably ought to go to the Burrow over Holiday. Again, the amount of random knowledge that man has astounds me.

So I packed, George did another homosexual victory dance, and now I'm stuck on a train to fake adoption, pity, and bad homemade sweaters.

Merry effing Christmas, Katie Bell.

XxX


	25. First Impressions

**A/N: I'm so glad you guys are still reading this & liking it. I was totally afraid I had "jumped the shark" with the Snape/Vampire thing, but I'm so happy you actually thought it was funny! Haha. It was fun to write. Anyway, this chapter's a bit of a filler to get to the next one, but the next few will be chalked full of random awesome plot bunnies, I promise! And so the main point of this Author's Note…I know in the 5****th**** book the Weasleys spend Christmas at St. Mungo's & not at the Burrow, but I'm going to just adopt the Christmas from Harry's 6****th**** Year and use it for the purposes of this story. SO…hope that's okay. With that said, read & review! Hope you enjoy. Cheers!**

**21 December**

**5:30 P.M.**

**The Burrow**

**Me and Angelina's Room**

Okay, thoughts book, I am definitely _not_ feeling traditional Yuletide Bliss here. I know you're probably thinking, "Why should you? You're genetically programmed to find fault with everything!" Because that's what my Great-Aunt Elsa says. But she's a moron. And I entered the Burrow feeling positive. It's not my fault that Alicia practically lost her virginity on Platform 9 ¾ and Fred is forcing me to spend the night with George and Fleur freaking Delacour has made a sudden random reappearance in my life and that I basically assaulted Mrs. Weasley and…well, let me start at the beginning. It will be a laundry list of things that pissed me off today, leading to why you should feel bad for me instead of speculating about my mental health.

Okay. So it all started back on the train.

After I got done writing in you, George and I sort of reconciled because—well, it is the holidays after all—and with him being such a freakish cuddler, I could easily swap fifteen minutes of cuddling as part of an agreement for fifteen minutes of him letting up on the "Snape is a vampire" thing. Seriously, thoughts book, it was _not _that funny, but George was looking like Christmas had come early. Maybe it did—then I could keep the new Beater's Bible I bought him for myself. Heh heh heh…

But I digress. Alicia and Lee have fallen asleep on each other by this point, and Lee is drooling on Alicia's vintage pink scarf (funny how none of us thought it appropriate to wake her) and Fred and Ange have stopped sucking face long enough to enter into decent conversation, and Fred and George are telling us what to expect when we get to the Burrow. (As if Ange needs to know, she has their entire lineage memorized by now. Psh.) Then Fred comes up with what he deems _a humble proposal_.

He says: "So basically Mum is going to want to keep you and me in our room and will probably put Ange and Kates in Percy's old room across the hall. But me and Ange want to share a room so we can—ah, well you know—so how's about you and Kates bunking up, eh George-pie?"

I screech, "Absolutely not!" at the same time George says all nonchalantly, "Sure, whatever."

"George!" I yell so loud that Alicia and Lee snap awake. Alicia discovers the drool and leaves to the bathroom horrified while Lee immediately falls back asleep.

"Sorry," I mumble. "But really, George—_really_?? You promised not to do anything I didn't want to do if I agreed to come to your house over Holiday!"

George rolls his eyes. "That was before you went all Van Helsing and got yourself thrown out of the castle. You didn't have any choice but to come with me, did you? Your mum threw you out in the place of old Neville Longbottom."

I gasp. "Uncalled for!" I shriek.

"I agree," Fred says diplomatically. "George, apologize to your lovely young lady. It's not her fault her family is crap."

"Fred!"

"Sorry, Kates," George says without meaning it.

"I'll share a room with you. But I'm still not shagging you!" I declare.

George makes a face of disgust. "As if I'd shag _you!"_ he says. "That's disgusting!"

Fred and Ange exchange looks and roll their eyes.

"What?" me and George say simultaneously in somewhat of a defensive manner.

"Nothing," Fred says, glossing it over. "So it's decided then? Half an hour after we all go to bed we make the switch, and no one in the house is any wiser."

"Fine," I say.

"Fine," George says. "As long as Katie agrees to brush her teeth."

I punch him.

A couple of hours later, we reach the platform and the most _RANDOM_ thing in the world happens. The twins and Angelina and Lee and I are all dragging our trunks out of the luggage compartment when we hear Alicia shriek in this obnoxiously happy manner and so we all turn around to see what's going on, and who should be there but _Oliver Wood_. And they're, like, squeezing the hell out of one another like they're empty toothpaste tubes.

And then they start making out. Seriously.

Lee is like, "_WHAT_???" and then rubs his eyes like he's not sure it's really happening, but oh—it is. And it's disgusting.

We're all staring wide-eyed and then they take a pause to breathe. Alicia sees us and starts waving madly and is like, "_See_?! I _told_ you guys it would happen! And you _never_ believed me!"

Wood is just grinning like mad. And then they turn back to each other and do that sickening "look into each other's eyes" thing and Alicia's all, "I can't believe you're actually here!"

And Wood says, "How could I not be?? After all of those letters you sent! Did you get my postcard!?"

"Yes!" Alicia shouts. "And those guys didn't think it was actually from you! They told me it was _mass-produced mail_."

Wood looks over at us and just laughs. "You're a strange lot," he says.

We're just all gaping. No one says anything. I don't think anyone can.

"Of course it was for you, my little Spinny-poo," Wood says, tickling Alicia under the chin. She giggles and they start snogging again. She takes a five second break to wish us a happy holiday and then resumes.

We all look at each other. "Well, I'll see you lot later then," Lee says finally, breaking the silence. And then he rushes off to his family who is standing in a random part of the platform.

Great, Lee. Way to avoid the game of awkward turtle.

But it doesn't matter because all of a sudden Angelina decides to have a panic attack and is freaking out about meeting Mrs. Weasley. Fred is trying to console her.

"Ange, she doesn't have _fangs_," he says. "She's not Snape!"

"No one is ever going to let that go, are you?" I drawl, not amused.

Fred grins and apologizes and goes back to comforting Ange, leading her through the barrier to King's Cross.

"Come on Kates," George says cheerily. "You don't have to listen to that git…we can race luggage carts!"

"You're on!" I shout, and we rush to throw our things in the closest trolley.

George and I have been racing the trolley carts since we were First Years. I always win.

I bewitch my trunk to be as light as a feather, and tossed it into a trolley I swiped from Neville Longbottom. Little sucker.

I get a running start and then leap into the cart, heading straight for the divider between the platform and the rest of King's Cross. George is close behind me, but he'll never make it. Ange and Fred have already disappeared beyond the barrier. I lean out of the cart as I rush toward the brick wall, yelling at Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger who are having some kind of row outside the divider.

"Bugger off!" I yell, nearly crashing into them as I go hurtling straight through the brick wall. George flies after me, causing little Ron to yell obscenities after us. Tosser.

Usually, I stop in time to avoid hitting anyone. This time, I didn't.

As soon as I sailed through the brick divider, I crashed straight into this round red-headed woman Angelina was just shaking hands with. She screamed and went flying backward as I smacked into her and my trolley cart toppled over, and I went rolling out. George soon appeared behind me, crashing into me and causing both of our carts to land on top of the woman. Fred is laughing so hard I don't think he can breathe, Angelina looks absolutely horrified, and somewhere, Colin Creepy yet again snaps a photo.

"Oh go on fucking Holiday already, you wanker!" I shout at him as I stand up and rub my arse.

George gets up and goes over to offer a hand to the woman I knocked over, whose skirt has blown up over her face. He pulls her up and as soon as her face is uncovered, I instantly know that she is Mrs. Weasley.

"Er, Mum," George says uncertainly. "This is Katie. Katie, this is my mum."

"Oh fucking hell," I say horrified, my mouth dropping open. George and what looks like the rest of the Weasley family are absolutely silent. From over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, I see Angelina's eyes practically busting out of her head at me. Fred only laughs harder. Git.

Mrs. Weasley raises her eyebrows, obviously trying to restrain herself, and finally says, "Well, George did say you were quite spirited."

"Mrs. Weasley, I am _so _sorry," Angelina bursts out with, sliding in between me and the woman I nearly killed. "Katie—er—can't control her mouth. It's a disease, and she lets George talk her into stupid things a lot."

Here, she gives George a look and George cowers beneath it. I scowl. I do not appreciate being labeled as having a medical condition pertaining to controlling my mouth. My temper, maybe, but I am always in control of my tongue. I open my mouth to protest, but Fred recovers himself enough to cover it for me.

Mrs. Weasley seems to accept this and offers me her hand. "I'm Molly," she says. "George has told me so much about you."

"Really?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow. I look over at George who blushes and suddenly looks intensely interested in a far off train. It's kind of endearing, in a way.

"Of course!" she answers. "But I won't embarrass him—he did tell me about your interest in vampire hunting, though! Are you interested in being an Auror, then?"

I glare at George, but say nothing.

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "And your Patronus! Did you know my husband's Aunt Muriel produces a bunny as a Patronus as well??"

I look even more incredulously as George who disappears in between Fred and what appears to be another of his brothers.

"Muriel!" Angelina cries suddenly. "She was the daughter of Octavius Weasley, wasn't she? The inventor of the Foot-Tickling Charm?"

"That's right," Mrs. Weasley answers, seeming remarkably pleased. She and Ange start to prattle away, and I roll my eyes and go off in search of George as all of us proceed to a Ministry Car Mr. Weasley is supposed to be parked in.

"I can't believe you told your family about my Patronus!" I screech as soon as I reach him.

"Er, sorry, Kates," George says guiltily.

"Hey," says the older looking red-head next to him. He has a few scorch marks on his face and a scar on his left arm. "You're the girl that hung Draco Malfoy from the goal hoops by his shoelaces, aren't you?"

"Do you say _anything_ flattering about me?" I explode. George shrinks from my anger.

"It's okay," the brother goes on. "I thought that was pretty bloody fantastic."

I grin broadly. "I like you," I state. "Who are you?"

"Katie, this is my brother Charlie," George mumbles. "Charlie, Katie."

"George writes home a lot of good stories about you," Charlie informs me. "He never shuts up about you."

Again, George blushes. I just grin.

Miraculously, all of us manage to fit into one tiny Ministry Car. Granted, it does expand a bit once you get inside it, but still—there were ten of us. Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Fred, George, Ange, me, Ron, Ginny, and Harry Potter. Predictably, Harry and Ron speak to no one but themselves. They're such loners. If Harry hadn't somehow survived You-Know-Who's Killing Curse, there is no way he'd be half as popular as he is now. He and Ron are so dull. Like I would rather watch flobberworms while listening to Binns lecture than hang out with either of them.

But I digress.

Mr. Weasley seems a nice enough bloke, just totally run over by his wife. When George introduces me, though, he says, "Oh! You're the girl who set that nice Ravenclaw's skirt on fire, aren't you?"

I put my hand on George's knee while smiling obsequiously, and then dig my nails into his knee. He whimpers.

_OKAY._ So now we're at the Burrow. It's this tiny little house in the middle of Nowhere, St. Catchpole and it has like five million stories that disappear into the sky and it looks like if I touch it, it will all come crashing down. I wonder how it's managed to survive with Fred and George living here all their lives.

We all rush into the house because it's snowing like mad, and just as the twins predicted, Mrs. Weasley shows us into Percy Weasley's old room.

"It _looks_ like Percy," Ange says, disgusted, once she left us to—quote, "freshen up."

It does. Everything is in immaculate order, and there's like five million little trophies and plaques around the room. His bookshelf is full of really boring old textbooks and Ministry directories. I'm positive if we look inside any of them, we'll find some porno magazines. It's _Percy Weasley_.

The only pictures in the room are framed ones of he and Dumbledore, he and Fudge, and he and Barty Crouch. The bedspread is tucked in on all four corners, and there is a pull-out trundle bed that is just as neat.

"Wonder how many wanks he's had in that," I say casually.

"Katie!" Ange groans. I shrug.

We change out of our snowy clothes into sweaters and go down into the living room. When we get down there, we meet (how the hell did he end up here?) Professor Lupin and yet another red-headed bloke. The twins are sitting on a long couch and beckon us over.

"Angelina, Katie," Fred says, "This is our brother Bill."

Bill is taller than Charlie, but still shorter than the twins. (Of course. No one is as freakishly tall as Fred and George are.) He looks normal, though, thank Godric—I was kind of expecting another Percy with the way that Fred and George have talked about him before. He says hi to Ange and then looks as me curiously.

"Are you the girl that vanished Roger Davies's trousers in Transfiguration?" he asks.

"Oh sweet Godric!" I shout, collapsing into the couch.

"Miss Johnson, Miss Bell," Professor Lupin says politely as Mrs. Weasley comes out of what looks like the kitchen with tea. (What a classic female mother figure, right?!? God.)

"Oh!" she says. "I forgot, you would know these girls, wouldn't you, Remus? Professor Lupin is staying with us for the Holiday, too," She adds, looking at us.

Of course he is. If there was a Professor who seemed like he could be more of a wash-out than Snape, it was Lupin. He _would_ be an adopted Weasley.

"Yes," he says. "Miss Johnson was one of our top students. And Miss Bell—you were the student whose Boggart turned into a moth, were you not?"

The entire living room bursts into laughter and I scowl. Ange gets to be the top student, and I'm remembered as the one who has an irrational aversion to moths. Great.

Just while I'm feeling that there is no chance in hell that I'm staying here another second, that half-veela princess Fleur Delacour bursts out of the kitchen. I scream.

No really, I screamed.

"What is _SHE_ doing here?" I gasp.

Fleur stares at me. "You are ze girl 'oo tried to cut off my hair during ze Potions class, are you not?"

I escaped up to me and Ange's room before dinner. This is going to be one long Holiday from Hell.

XxX


	26. Switch

**A/N: Thanks SO MUCH for all of the reviews, you guys…seriously, they make my day. I want to give props to MusicIsMyHeartAndSoul for giving me the idea to have Angelina take a little spill in the decorum department. I didn't fit everything I wanted to in this chapter because it started getting a little long, but it ended up working out to have a nice cliffhanger at the end. Yay! Read & Review & Enjoy, please! Cheers, KJ**

**21 December (Still)**

**9:30 P.M.**

**Me and Ange's Room**

So Ange and I are about to hand the twins _ULTIMATE RETRIBUTION._ How, and for what you ask, thoughts book? Why, I shall tell you. Because while Angelina is in the bathroom getting ready for what we're about to do, maybe writing in you will make me think better of it. Oh Godric, McGonagall actually has gotten inside my head. But no matter. Let me continue.

Here's what happened.

So I'm pouting up in this room, debating whether my stomach or my pride is going to win out in this head-to-head match when George knocks on the door. I know it's him because he says, "Open up, moron!" It's rather sad how my boyfriend is the only one in the entire house who would call me by such a degrading name. Nevertheless.

He Apparates in when I don't answer. I forget how much George loves to Apparate when we're in school because of that Charm thing. I inform him that it's very rude to Apparate into someone's room, and remind him that I could have been naked for all he knew. He makes a face and reminds me that he's already had the displeasure of seeing me naked. Wanker.

GEORGE: Katie, come down to dinner.

ME: No.

GEORGE: If you don't, my mum will consider it an insult.

ME: -Scoffs- As if she didn't consider it an insult when I crashed into her and then said "fuck."

GEORGE: That was a little unusual, yes.

ME: George, your family hates me!

GEORGE: They do not.

ME: Well, they think I'm off my rocker then!

GEORGE: That's hard to argue with…

ME: GEORGE!

GEORGE: It's okay, you're just…a little irreverent. But so am I!

I remind George that he is their son and brother and they have to love him. He concedes this point, but then assures me that I shouldn't worry.

"And why the hell not?" I say. "Every time I step into sight, one of them recognizes me as the girl who said or did something stupid, or is afraid of moths."

George laughs. "I forgot about your boggart…Wow, you really are an embarrassment."

I eye him. He swallows.

"But really, Kates," he says. "Don't sweat it. Even if she does hate you, Mum won't say anything. With the war and everything and Fred and me being old enough to join the Order of the Phoenix and duel and stuff, she doesn't have the heart to disapprove of anything we do. She's too scared we're going to end up croaking and then she'll regret being a horrible mum. She could hate your guts and still treat you like a second Ginny."

"Really?" I ask, feeling slightly more cheerful.

"Cross my heart," he says. "So you'll come down for dinner?"

"No."

"Katie!"

"You have to swear on your grave that you won't tell any more loony stories about me."

"But that's all there is!"

"_George!"_

"Fine, fine. No more crazy Katie stories. Now will you come down?? It's roast pheasant!"

I pretend to think about it. "Race you down!" I shout as I take off down the millions of winding stairs. George calls out, "Not fair!" from behind me, but continues to barrel down causing the walls to shake.

Angelina attacks me and pulls me into a side closet before I can get to the kitchen, however. I hear George's shouts of exultation as he zooms into the room and then crashes into the dining table.

"Angie," I whine. "You just made me lose to George. You know how I feel about losing to George!"

She crosses her arms and stares at me sternly. "I was just trying to save you from another embarrassing scene," she explains. "Or do you really want to assault Mrs. Weasley again?"

"Why are you lecturing me?" I complain. "You know who you are…You're Hermione Granger!"

Ange gasps and covers her mouth. "You take that back!" she shouts.

"High-strung Hermione!" I taunt.

"_I am not_!"

"So prove it and quit sucking up!"

"Just because I'm making an _effort_ instead of swearing at our guests and knocking them to the cold concrete pavement does NOT mean I'm sucking up!"

"Below the belt!" I shout. "And it's not my fault you get to play perfect girlfriend Ange when everyone remembers me as the crazy lunatic who sets girls skirts on fire!"

"You _did _set a girl's skirt on fire!" 

"That was Marietta Edgecombe! It was a service to humanity!"

"Or your lust for George!"

"Uncalled for!"

She pouts and sits down in a huff on an overturned bucket. "At least George talks about you!" she complains. "Fred apparently doesn't say anything about me at all!"

I roll my eyes. "Angelina, if you and Fred ever did anything in your relationship besides shag, maybe you would have time for unflattering hyjinx."

"We do plenty of stuff!" she shouts. "Just because we're not always bickering or pulling each other's hair doesn't mean we don't have a relationship of substance! And besides, I happen to _like_ shagging!"

Just as Ange says this last part, the door to the closet opens and the entire Weasley family is staring at us. Mrs. Weasley looks especially horrified, and is looking from Ange to Fred (who is currently sinking as low as possible in his chair.) This time, it's George's turn to laugh like an idiot. Bill and Charlie join him. Fleur looks distinctly disgusted, and Professor Lupin looks embarrassed. Ginny, Ron, and Harry are predictably in another little world of their own.

"Frederick," Mrs. Weasley finally says, clearing her throat and attempting to regain herself. "Please come and help me in the kitchen."

"Yes, Mum," he mumbles and slumps out of his chair.

So we're all sitting around in the living room and I haven't seen Ange blush like this since Fred asked her to the Yule Ball last year. George and I keep snickering and every once in a while Mrs. Weasley's voice breaks through the air with things like, "I can't believe you could do those things to that sweet girl!" or, later, "I hope you're being responsible! I'm not ready to be a grandmother yet!" Ange looks like she might be sick. I excuse us and we go to the bathroom and I help her put some water on her face.

When we return, things appear to be smoothed over and everyone is sitting at the dining table. Fred and George are sitting across from one another, obviously waiting for us to join them.

"Let me help you, dear," Mrs. Weasley says, and takes Angelina by the hand.

George rolls his eyes. "Mum, she's not _pregnant_," he drawls.

"No thanks to you, Frederick Weasley!" she scolds and sets Angelina down next to him.

The four of us exchange glances. I'm about to open my mouth when Fred pulls me down next to him.

"Come on, Kates!" he shouts joyfully. "I, George, have missed you!"

Bill looks at him strangely. "Why are you talking like that?" he asks.

George looks appalled, and pulls Angie closer to him, placing his arm around her waist. "Hi, love," he says smarmily. "I can't wait until you see your Christmas gift! I, Fred, picked you out something very special!"

Now Bill stares at George. "You two are nutters," he says simply.

Even now, I'm horrified that, 1) The Weasley family STILL can't tell the twins apart, 2) They simply accepted the fact that Fred and George were being morons and continued eating and carrying on their own loud conversations. But I guess that's what happens when you live with the twins.

Pretty soon, the Angie/Fred incident was forgotten and everyone was shoveling down food. It was _delicious, _but the effect was being ruined by the fact that Fred basically mauled me during all of dinner.

He was obviously enjoying himself.

"Katie Kate, you're _so _pretty!" he coos and starts petting my head.

George sees and looks affronted. He abruptly puts his arm around Angelina's waist and roughly pulls her closer to him. "Love you," he says in a smarmy voice.

Fred gasps and promptly leans me back in my chair and kisses me. This is the second time I've kissed Fred in as many months.

This time, George, Angelina, and I all shout.

"_MRS. WEASLEY!"_ I thunder. The entire table stops being obnoxious and looks up. Even Ron and Harry.

"No!" Fred hisses. "You can't tell her she mixed us up, she'll go bonkers and start sobbing again!"

I cross my arms very angrily. "_Fine_," I spit back.

"Did you need something, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asks, looking slightly afraid.

"I love your roast pheasant," I say, and blush slightly at the oddity of the situation. She seems to accept this however, and goes back to eating. Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, looks from Fred to George suspiciously but says nothing. Typical.

"I can't believe you did that," I hiss angrily at Fred.

He ignores me and places his arm around my shoulder haughtily, casting a superior look at George.

George opens his mouth looking outraged and starts _making out_ with Angelina at the dinner table. Ange muffles angrily, but the table seems unnoticing or unwilling to notice and no one cares. He lets her go finally and turns to Fred, as though daring him to come up with something better than that. Ange and I are both red in the face and fuming.

Then Fred does the unthinkable.

He licks the side of my face.

I gasp, splutter, and shout. "YOU'RE HARRY POTTER AND CHO CHANG!" I bellow, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Once again, the entire table pauses to observe me and little Harry turns beet red, looks around, and says, "What?? What are you talking about? I didn't ever—how did you know—I mean, _what_?"

My face falls. "Oh," I say. "Right. Forgot you were here."

Ron gives him a curious look and he buries his head in his dinner plate. Professor Lupin looks faintly amused.

"I'm going to bed!" I announce suddenly.

"Me _too_," Ange joins in, hellfire bursting forth from her dark eyes as she glares pointedly at Fred. He swallows.

"Us too!" Fred and George simultaneously shout, jumping up to join us.

"Now wait just a minute, you two!" Mrs. Weasley shouts, running up as we make a break for the stairs. "Oh, you girls are free to go up to your rooms," she adds, dismissing Ange and me.

"Like hell we will," I mutter, but Ange grabs me and drags me off to another part of the staircase where we can eavesdrop.

"—And there will be absolutely no sharing a room with her at all this holiday, Fred Weasley!" We peer down and see Mrs. Weasley driving her finger into George's chest.

I roll my eyes. "She still thinks George is Fred!" I hiss.

George nods. "Of course not, Mum," he answers jauntily. "I now see what a prick I've been. It's a very irresponsible and dangerous sort of behavior."

"I don't appreciate your cheek, young man!"

"On the contrary," George answers. "I'm perfectly serious. In the future, I shall behave much more like my dear brother George. He is, after all, vastly superior in wisdom and charm."

Mrs. Weasley looks at him suspiciously, and then turns to Fred. "George, dear," she says. "You're not involved in this—this _business_ your brother is with Katie, are you?"

"Absolutely not, Mum," Fred says, giving George a nasty look. "I'm far too much of an immature brownnoser to do something like that."

"That's my good boy," Mrs. Weasley says, giving Fred a hug. Fred giggles in a girlish manner and pats Mrs. Weasley on the back of the head.

"You taught me well, Mummy," he coos.

Mrs. Weasley blushes and then, pushes both of the twins away. "Now off to bed, you two," she says. "Scoot!"

The twins begin to barrel up the stairs, occasionally whacking one another on the way up and Angelina and I dart up to our room quickly.

We come up with our winning plan once we're safe inside.

"Those two!" Angie says angrily, slamming the door shut and sliding down against it. "Sometimes I could just…ARGH!"

I nod sympathetically. I would like you to note, thoughts book, that in this case _I _was the rational being. Not Ange.

"I mean, how do you deal with George when he does stuff like that?! I could take his head off!"

"The problem is that I want to jump George when he does stuff like that," I answer calmly.

Ange's eyes light up and that's when she comes up with "THE PLAN." The following conversation took place:

ANGE: That's it!

ME: What's it?

ANGE: That's how we'll get our revenge!

ME: We're getting revenge?

ANGE: Of course! Who are you and what have you done with Katie Bell?  
ME: Excuse me, but for purposes of survival, I decided to leave Katie Bell behind after she _assaulted Mrs. Weasley_ on the platform! I would like to maintain a roof over my head this Christmas! Who are YOU all of a sudden?

ANGE: -Waves Hand Dismissively- My reputation is already sunk after the closet incident. NOW…are you going to help me get back at them or not?

ME: Not.

ANGE: Katie!

ME: -Whiny Voice- Angie!

ANGE: Fred licked your face.

ME: Gasp! You're right. Okay. What's the plan?

ANGE: Well…if they think it's so funny to be mixed up…

And then she divulges the full plan. Since we had all previously agreed to switch bedrooms so Fred and Angie could spend the night together, we would simply "mix up" the twins. Ange and I would strip down to rather revealing nighties (in my case, it would just be a tanktop and shorts since I don't own the kind of crap she does) and attempt to scare the shit out of Fred and George by pretending to think that they were each other.

Ange says there's no way this plan can go wrong. I am not so sure, thoughts book, now that I've written it out. But she's just emerged from the bathroom and insists we give it a try. If the Weasleys somehow find out and throw me out in the snow and I freeze to death, I want all of my worldly possessions to go to Lee. He's the only person I can halfway respect anymore.

XxX


	27. Dirty Rotten Cheater

**22 December **

**10:00 A.M.**

**Fred and George's Room**

**The Burrow**

Dear, dear, dear Thoughts Book,

Hooray, am girlfriend of spectacular lad who loves me despite my temper, irrational lash outs, and all around oddity. Sure, George can be a bit of a god-awful prick at times…but who isn't? Last night was so _amazing_, I've almost completely forgotten the mortification that happened first.

But I shall catalog it in an effort to be fair to my character. Also, Ange says I should have a reliable written record (alliteration, yay!) in case the Weasleys ever decide to press charges one day.

As if my _dear_ George would ever do something like that. But no matter.

Okay, after Angelina came out of the bathroom last night (she was in a spectacularly scandalous teddy, and I was debating on whether to let George see her that way), we walk out of the room and hide down the hall behind a bookcase and wait for the twins to make their moves. We're both fairly irritated that after their little stunt at dinner, they still assume that we're going to give them the time of day…but it's important to the plan so we do nothing besides scoff.

It's George that goes into me and Ange's room, so we assume Fred must still be in the twins' room. (See, Mrs. Weasley? Not THAT hard to tell your sons apart.) Ange nods at me and we sneak down the hall, splitting in separate directions at the two doors.

I'm a little self conscious as I'm about to sneak into the room. In all honesty, thoughts book, I have no idea how to be _sexy_. I mean, the one time I was even remotely treated as such was the day I wore Alicia's tiny uniform and I was practically busting the buttons. I look down at myself. I'm in tiny shorts and a tank top. For added measure, I pull my shorts up higher and walk in.

As soon as I stepped through the door, Fred yelped and threw up the covers in a flash, until just the top of his carroty red hair was showing.

"Hello, handsome," I say, in my sexiest voice.

"Katie, George is in the _other _room," Fred says, clutching at the covers and peering out at me. "It's me, Fred."

I laugh cheerfully. "That was a good one at the dinner table, George," I say. "But just because your family falls for it doesn't mean I'm going to."

I swivel my hips as I lower myself down on the bed next to him, taking care to ensure that one of the straps to my tanktop falls down my shoulder. Fred eyes it and swallows nervously.

"Really, Kates, look at me," he says. "It's me, _Fred_."

"Okay, _Fred_," I say sarcastically, beginning to twist one of Fred's locks of hair around my finger. "Why don't you slide over and make room for _me_?"

"Katie, for God's sakes, it really is _me_! Fred Weasley!"

He's starting to sweat, little sucker.

"Come now, let me in," I pretend to pout and tug on the covers.

Fred pulls them tighter. "Trust me, Kates, you _really_ don't want to do that."

"Oh I think I do!" I say, winking, and then with a great flourish, I rip the comforter away from him.

Then I scream.

Because Fred Weasley is lying in the bottom bunk in his and George's bedroom _completely starkers_.

That's right, thoughts book. I saw Fred Weasley naked.

He's frozen and I'm frozen and I'm still screaming as I hear a high pitched scream emit from me and Angelina's room. I'm assuming things did not go well for her, either.

Two seconds later, George comes rushing in and it turns out that it had been his girly scream, not Ange's (go figure. I should have pegged my boyfriend as the one to sound like that.) He's wearing a matching pajama set that has a teapot print and is clutching a teddy bear very defensively. Not far behind him is Ange, who looks completely satisfied with herself until she sees Fred.

"Fred!" she shrieks. "Oh my _god_! You're _naked_!"

"Well what did you expect, Ange?!" he shouts defensively. "I like that teddy, by the way."

"Thanks!" George says stupidly.

"Not your _bear_, George. Godric, you turn into such a pathetic loser when we come home," Fred says disgustedly.

"You're _naked_!" Ange repeats, still horrified. Her eyes are bugging out of her skull.

"Personally, I'm wondering why you're _still_ naked!" I shout, now covering my eyes with my hands.

"Katie, what are you _wearing_?" George shouts suddenly. He rushes over to me and makes sure to cover me from Fred and Ange while delicately placing my tank top strap back in place. I roll my eyes.

"I can't believe you exposed yourself to Katie!" Ange is shouting.

"It's not like I _chose_ to, Angelina!" Fred yells back.

"As if you didn't know Katie and I were going to try to play a trick on you after your little stunt at dinner!"

"This was a _joke_?!"

"Of course it was!"

"You're INSANE!"

George now looks outraged as well. He points a finger accusatorily at me. "You made me see Angelina in a teddy for _fun_?" he shouts, scandalized.

"What are you complaining for?" I yell back. "I saw your sodding twin brother _naked_! Now I've seen _both of you that way_! Yuck!"

Angelina and Fred exchange glances and look affronted.

"I do not look bad naked," Fred says haughtily.

"And I look great in this teddy," Ange says defensively.

George and I exchange glances and then look back at them. "You're nutters," we say simultaneously.

"Come on, Fred, we don't have to take this," Ange declares. She takes Fred's hand and leads him out of the bedroom and across the hall. The last thing I see is Fred's bare bottom winking in the glow of the nightlight as it disappears behind the door.

"I can't believe he _never_ covered himself up in between now and then," I remark as soon as the noise dies down.

George shrugs as he picks up the pillow Fred threw down and begins to make up the bed. "It's Fred," he says simply. "He's very confident."

I roll my eyes but continue to help tidy up. "Nice _pajamas_," I say, grinning.

George instantly turns red. "They belonged to my Great Aunt Tessie," he says defensively. "And they're very _cozy_."

"And the bear?"

"Bessie," George says fondly and squeezes the teddy bear.

I stare at him. "If only the Hogwarts masses could see you now," I say sarcastically, putting the last pillow on the bottom bunk.

He gives me a look.

"Hey," I say suddenly. "We can't hear Fred and Ange. Cool!"

George waves his hand dismissively. "Fred and I put a sound barrier on this floor of the house years ago. Helped for testing our inventions and blocking the noise of Percy—ah—_pleasuring himself_ in his room."

I wrinkle my nose.

"So…" George says finally. "Top or bottom bunk? Fred stole top when we were seven so I've gotten used to the bottom, but whatever you want."

"I'll take top," I say easily. "Unless you feel cheated out of so many years on the top that you want it."

"All yours," he says, bowing and swooping his hands toward the top bunk.

I suddenly giggle.

"What?" he asks, face falling.

"That conversation sounded sexual. Top…bottom…"

George rolls his eyes. "Godric, Bell, you are _so _not ready to have sex," he says. "You're so immature."

I stick my tongue out defensively. "I've seen you naked," I remind him.

"Point proven," he says, scoffing.

I ignore him and climb onto the top bunk and slide between the covers.

"George, have you—you know…?" I say suddenly.

"Don't finish that question," he warns.

I'm confused as to what this may entail, but then decide that I don't want to know after all.

I lean over the railing and George leans out from his bunk and pecks me on the lips.

"Night!" he says.

"Night!"

Now, I find it odd that I suddenly forgot about the "switch" at dinner and being angry about it. I'm about to say so and chastise George, when he suddenly says:

"Katie?"

"Yeah?" I say, assuming he may want to apologize.

"You—erm—you don't have to sleep up there if you don't want to."

"Why?" I ask, confused. "You change your mind? Want the top bunk after all?"

"No," he says uncomfortably. After a pause, he continues. "I just mean…well, we could share a bed. If you want."

I lean completely over the railing so my face is level with his. Except it's upside down. I can feel the blood rushing to my face already.

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.

"No funny business," he says quickly. "Just…sharing a bed."

I consider him, and then make a disgusted face. "You want to cuddle all night, don't you?" I ask, a little condescendingly.

George blushes. "_Maybe_," he says defensively. "So what if I do?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, all right," I say, and clamber out of bed and down the ladder. "The things I put up with just to date you…"

George scoots over and holds his arm out for me, caressing the spot next to him. In spite of myself, I laugh and awkwardly slide in next to him. We've never spent the night together before, even though Angelina and Fred do it all the time.

George closes his arm over me and pulls me close to him as we lie down. He uses his other arm to pull up the covers and then slides it over my waist.

"Now," he whispers, and the little wand lights at the other end of the room go out. The room is completely dark and then I feel him kiss me. It's not snogging, and it's not a peck either. I decide I like it. I tell him so.

"Good," he says. "And now that I've got you here, I'm free to feel you up, right?"

I shove him hard away from me, but he just laughs and grabs on to me.

"Kidding, kidding, kidding," he whispers into my ear. I shiver.

"Night, George," I say, unable to restrain myself from grinning.

"Nighty Night, Katie Kate," he says in a sing-song voice. I cuddle in closer to him and we fall asleep.

And that's how we woke up this morning! George didn't slip me a Puking Pastille or take away my honor while I was sleeping or anything! This is a first for us. I'm already showered and dressed and now I'm waiting for him to get out of the shower.

YAY US!!!!!

XxX

**5 Minutes Later**

**Quick Update**

Perhaps George is not so perfect. Have found Christmas card from Marietta Edgecombe on his desk. Is it possible…?

XxX

**6:00 P.M.**

**Me and Ange's Room**

Investigating George's potential cheating did not go well. Mostly because I didn't investigate so much as I vented my feelings by attacking him with snow.

Avoided him at breakfast, but the annoying git did not seem to notice. This could have been because Charlie had brought home a baby dragon which was currently roasting sausage on the table with its fire breath, but it's anybody's guess. Stupid dragon. Stupid life.

Cannot believe I was raving about stupid George as an amazing boyfriend only a few short hours ago. I hate that git.

Anyway, after breakfast Fred and George were being a little—well—_much_ (they were transfiguring the cat into different articles of clothing which was making it yowl) and so Mrs. Weasley suggested we all go outside and enjoy the snow. This included Harry and Ron and Ginny. So we organized a massive snowball fight. Fred and George refused to be separated and Angelina refused to leave Fred's side so George punted me off to the younger ones to "round out the teams."

I glowered at him as he volunteered me. Sodding bastard. Was probably trying to separate from me so he could go off and think about what to get Marietta for Christmas. Harry looked at me funny as I pouted all the way over to their side of the yard.

"What's with him?" I asked Ron as I joined them.

"Oh, well he was a bit—ahh—mortified about what you said at the dinner table last night, wasn't he? About him and Cho?" 

"So?" I asked defensively.

"So we wiped his memory and Fred and George cast a spell so you look like—er—something else," Ginny interjected. "But just to Harry."

I stared. "What do I look like?" I hissed.

"Well—a bush."

"A BUSH?!"

"Fred and George chose it!" Ginny said, pointing her finger across the yard.

"George!" I bellowed. "I'm going to take your sodding head off!"

"I LOVE YOU TOO, KATIE!" George shouted at the top of his lungs.

Harry says, "Why is George yelling at that mulberry bush?"

Ginny gently tells Harry he had a little too much to drink that morning. "I don't see any bush!" she says. Ron just shrugs. Useless Weasley boys. Harry just looks bewildered and cleans his glasses.

Fred blew a whistle (where the hell did he get a whistle?) and we began. I charged at George.

"Katie, we're meant to keep to our sides of the lawn!" Ginny shouts after me. I give her the finger. I figure I'll probably regret that later, but I don't care.

"GEORGE WEASLEY, I HATE YOU!" I shout, running at top speed.

He just stares at me slightly amused as I charge toward him, snowball in hand.

I leap onto him and push us both down to the ground and shove his face full of snow. "Eat snow!" I bellow, smashing it into his mouth.

George easily forces himself on top of me and throws me over his shoulder as he takes off for a distant snow bank.

"PUT ME DOWN!" I shout. "HELP, I'M BEING ABDUCTED!!!!" Naturally, no one looks up.

George throws me down onto the snowbank and shoves my face (and clothes!) full of snow, and then sits on top of me.

"Alright," he says calmly. "What have I done now?"

I open my mouth to yell at him and George stuffs it full of more snow.

"Nothing?" he says brightly. "That's what I thought."

I spit out the snow and sit up and slap at him ridiculously. I know, thoughts book, but it was very cold and it was the best I could manage.

"Godric, Katie, _what is it_?" he said. "I thought we were having a good Holiday together!"

"We were!" I shout. "Until I found out you were _cheating_ on me with Marietta Edgecombe! I saw your Christmas card from her! How could you?!?!"

George looks at me blankly and then cracks up laughing. Seriously. He doubles over and has tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Oy!" Fred shouts. "You two! You're supposed to be on opposite teams! Unless you're putting her in prison, George, come back over here!"

George holds up his hand to signal his inability to anything other than laugh like a tossing idiot and then starts rolling on the snow.

"Right," I say, attempting to gather my dignity. "Well, I'm off then."

And I stomped back up here. Am falling to pieces in manner of tragic spinster woman.

XxX

**10:00 P.M.**

**Fred and George's Room**

Er…turns out George is _not_ cheating on me. 'Cause right before dinner he comes up and Apparates into our room, grabs my hand, and drags me across the hall to his room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demand. "I'm writing to my mother!"

"You just sent your mother a Howler," George reminds me. "I doubt she's too keen on hearing from you at the moment."

I stick up my nose.

"Now," he says. "Sit down, shut up, and _read this_."

George pushes me down on his bed and thrusts Marietta's Christmas card at me.

"Read it," he said icily, folding his arms.

I stick my tongue out at him and open the damn card, not believing that he's making me take part in his infidelity. This is what it said:

_Dear George,_

_Haha! I disguised this hate mail in the form of a Christmas card so you would open it! Hahaha! I just wanted to let you know that I HATE you and your stupid girlfriend Katie Bell. She's not even that pretty. By the way, I'm back with Roger and I will NEVER want you again. So that's what you get for rejecting me. Hahaha!_

_Marietta—The curly-haired vixen who is WAY out of your league_

_Tosser._

I scrunch my nose up a little.

"Well?" George says impatiently.

"Um…well I guess you're not cheating me," I concede. "I _guess_."

"You _guess_?!" George says incredulously. "Katie, this is Marietta being her idea of an overly-clever scarlet woman because I'm dating _you_. Could you please get yourself out of your self-destructive spiral of rage and realize that I might actually _love_ you?"

I stared. "You _love _me?" I echoed.

He glared and folded his arms. "So?" he said defensively.

Now I laughed. "You love me! You love me!" I taunted, tossing Marietta's card behind the bed.

"Katie!"

"You love me, you love me!" I continued, watching George's face grow angrier until he attempted to grab me. I leapt up and ran down the stairs, continuing to shout in a sing-song voice at the top of my lungs.

"Shut up!" George yells as he chases me down the stairs.

"NOW THE MULBERRY BUSH IS RUNNING AROUND THE HOUSE!" Harry shrieked when we reached the living room. Everyone stopped.

"Harry dear, you really do need more rest," Mrs. Weasley says nervously. Mr. Weasley laughs in the background.

XxX

**23 December **

**12:00 Noon**

**Burrow Living Room**

Oh my. Am afraid have just been enlisted on Christmas Eve cooking expedition. Did not mean to, except may have told accidental lie about being an extremely good cook. Here's what happened:

So we're sitting at breakfast this morning and in an effort to repair ties with Mrs. Weasley, Ange is being all _Ange _again and is ridiculously sucking up. Having exhausted the entire Weasley family tree (not a task to cough at, I will let you know), she's regaling her with stories of her attempts at knitting in Muggle Studies. I happen to know for a fact that Angelina paid off Alicia to finish those knitting projects, but I say nothing—just glare at her. And they're all swapping these stories like they're old girlfriends.

I'm slightly annoyed, but apparently George assumes I'm _utterly devastated_ and in effort to remedy it, he says, "Mum, Katie gained the most weight during the baking unit of Muggle Studies."

I gasp and kick George under the table, while Mrs. Weasley looks alarmed and then says, "That's nice, dear…" and switches her gaze to me in a look that clearly says, "Why are you dating my son, you bizarre girl?"

Offended, I blurt out the following: "That was just because I'm a _really _good cook. I baked twelve dozen batches of chocolate chip cookies in under an hour, and my recipe won an internationally recognized contest."

Fred and George's mouths drop and Mrs. Weasley says, "Oh, how wonderful! You can help me with the food tomorrow then!"

Oh. Dear. Merlin. Help me.


	28. Hell, or, Cooking at the Burrow

**A/N: Yes, almost two years later, an update!**

**24 December **

**10:00 A.M.**

**Kitchen**

**Bloody freaking out!**

Oh. Sweet. Merlin. What am I to do? Am standing like an imbecile in the middle of the kitchen in the Burrow holding a wooden spoon and wearing some bizarre chef's hat George dug out of the closet. Am attempting to watch what Mrs. Weasley does and copy when she has her back turned, but is becoming difficult as she wants to see my incredible baking skills in practice. George keeps peeking through the window and pointing and laughing at me. Wanker.

I close my eyes and throw some flour in a bowl of orange peels and sneeze when it lands in my face. Mrs. Weasley blinks at me and I do a taste test of the mixture left on my face, stand on one foot, hop in a circle, and then look at her hopefully.

"You certainly do have unorthodox methods, dear," she says uncertainly. "But George insists you're the best, so you must know what you're doing…"

"What did George say?" I blurt out ridiculously, my grip on the wooden spoon increasing so much I feel splinters digging into my palm.

"Oh, just that your bouillabaisse kept the entire school coming back for more," she says absent-mindedly as she turns back to her own cooking. I whirl around and wildly attempt to copy her actions. "And that Professor Dumbledore particularly enjoyed it."

I roll my eyes. My bouillabaisse had kept everyone who tried it in the toilets the entire day. Fred had the trots so bad he missed an entire week of classes. Oddly, though, George hadn't been lying about the Professor Dumbledore bit. He had liked my bouillabaisse. Mind you, he's a weird bugger.

"Oh yes," I agree, prodding the mixture with my wand while her back is turned. "Come on, you useless hunk of shit!" I hiss. "_Do _something."

It just sits there. By the way, thoughts book, I have no idea what it is I'm meant to be making. George informed his mother, with tears of laughter in his eyes, that I would be baking an _original recipe_. I keep telling everyone it's going to be a surprise. Fred turned this weird shade of green and ran up the stairs and hasn't been heard from since. Angelina is off pouting somewhere now that I am the new favourite, and George is alternately harassing me through the window and playing with fireworks in the front yard with his brother Charlie. Yes, thoughts book, _playing_. I'm dating an eleven-year-old.

Suddenly, the dough starts erupting in pockets, and shooting out steam. I gasp and attempt to sit on it, while Mrs. Weasley turns around to investigate. "Everything all right, dear?" she asks cautiously.

"Yes!" I screech loudly. "But um…"

I try to think of an excuse that will allow me to leave the kitchen, escape the house, and possibly establish a small colony in Nova Scotia.

"I need more peppercorn!" I cry triumphantly.

"Oh well that's just here…"

"No!" I yell. She raises her eyebrows. "I meant um…I need some…hippogriff eggs. That's it. I'll just pop 'round to the shop then…"

And I attempt to escape, but she grabs my collar. I turn around guiltily in a manner that I've seen George do all the time. "Yes?" I say as pleasantly as possible.

"I wouldn't want you to have to go all the way through the snow to the village," she says kindly. "Why don't I go, and you can hold down the fort here?"

"You trust me to do that?" I gulp. "I really don't mind—"

"I trust you _entirely_," she says. "Now you just keep an eye on the pie, the ham, the cordon bleu, the chicken salad, the bouillabaisse, the baked beans…"

And she rambles off this whole list of things I didn't even know were in this impossibly tiny kitchen and points them out, which I will never again be able to identify. Before I can protest again, Mrs. Weasley disappears and I am left with fifty boiling and/or baking things all for tonight's big meal.

Okay, I tell myself. I can do this. No problem. The goal is obviously not to touch anything.

Except I can't help myself.

Figuring that baked beans were probably the easiest food item to conceptualize and thus base some sort of recipe off of, I lean over the boiling pot and peer inside. Looks fairly harmless. So I pick up the spoon and stir them around a bit. They make a simmering noise and then die down again. Interesting. And, thoughts book, they smelled _so good_. Good enough to eat, in fact.

I glance surreptitiously around the small kitchen, and then through the window over the sink. George is currently entertaining Charlie by shoving small fireworks down his pants and pretending to fart. Good. He is clearly distracted, and as a bonus, I won't have to worry about being impregnated by a Weasley if anything goes wrong there. So I decide to try a little taste.

And this is the part where everything goes horribly wrong.

Not particularly realizing that what I am inserting into my mouth came from a boiling pot on a very hot stove, I shove the spoonful of beans directly down my throat, shriek in horror at the burning sensation making its way to my stomach, and dive for my wand, trying to think of some spell to save me from dying from the inside out. Sadly, I never get the chance to get there, because my wand flies straight from my grasp and starts shooting off sparks in all directions.

All at once, everything begins to explode. I swear on Godric Gryffindor's holy ghost that I was not purposely intending to burn the Weasley's house down, but it is now seeming like a real possibility.

Yelping and nearly in tears, I grab hold of my maniac wand and start shouting every spell I know, from _Lumos _to _Engorgio_.

Oh shit.

_ENGORIGO?_

I whirl around wildly to see what the very misjudged spell hit after it rebounded off a metal pot, and notice that—of course—it's my original recipe. And then…like a slow motion scene out of one of those war films we watch in Muggle studies…as the baked beans, bouillabaisse, turkey, ham, chicken salad, and cordon bleu continue to explode and bounce off the walls in short little bursts, I watch in horror as the original recipe grows to the size of a hippogriff.

"_NOOOOOOOOOOO!"_ I bellow, running and then sliding across the floor as I fall to my knees, throw a metal bowl over my head for protection, and then take shelter under the table.

There is an enormous boom, and then everything is quiet.

XxX

**Later…**

**11:30 A.M.**

**Kitchen **

**Lying on Floor in Ruins**

**And then…**

**Rather Loving George Weasley**

I have barricaded myself into the kitchen, henceforth to be known as the seventh circle of Hell, and am not ever coming out again ever. I have no idea what I will do when Mrs. Weasley gets back—maybe stage a stand off of some kind. Lord knows I have enough ammunition. I am the bloody apocalypse and the Kingdom Come.

At least Ange will be pleased. She'll be favourite again.

I lie on the floor with bits of egg (what had egg in it?) in my hair and red hot rashes from the exploded baked beans on my skin. I'm still wearing the upside down metal bowl. The remains of my concoction hang from the ceiling while the rest of the overturned baked beans are dripping onto the floor. _Drip drop, drip drop…drip…drip…drip. _Yes, Katie. Just listen to the nice sound of the delicious ruined side dish as it counts down your demise. _Drip drop, drip drop…drip…drip…drip._ Oh God. I really am done for.

Or at least that's what I think. Because at that moment, George suddenly appears in the kitchen .

"Bloody hell!" I shout, not caring that I sound like stupid Ron. I sit up a little. "How did you get in here?"

"People can still apparate, drongo," he says, rolling his eyes. "That two by four you blocked the door with is probably smarter than you."

I collapse again and begin to cry.

"What's the matter with you?" George asks, picking up the torn chef's hat that's lying at my feet. It's as though he hasn't realized his family's kitchen is covered in shit. "What are you crying for?"

"There's all this stuff on the floor!" I wail incoherently.

He laughs. George actually _laughs_, thoughts book, the _bastard. _I would have gotten up and pummeled him but I was too distressed.

"How can you be that way?" I moan, rolling over to the fetal position. "I've ruined the kitchen and the delicious smelling baked beans and my original recipe is _dead_, even though I had no idea what it was to begin with! And now your family with hate me and mock me even more, and Ange will go back to being favourite even though _she_'_s _the bloody shagger, not me, and there's NO CHRISTMAS DINNER! Your family will force you to chuck me, and then where will I be? Just a no good mulberry bush, that's who."

At this point, it is impossible to tell whether George's laughter or my wailing is louder, and in retrospect, I wonder why no one came down to the kitchen to investigate. Probably pulling crackers or shopping for hippogriff eggs for an original recipe that doesn't exist. It is Christmas Eve, after all.

Anyway, George eventually recovers enough to sit down on the floor next to me and take the metal bowl off my head, sit me up, start pulling the bits of egg out of my hair as I bury my face in my hands and get out the rest of my tears. When I finish, I peek at him through my fingers. He's still smiling, but not in an obnoxiously rude kind of way that says "Well isn't _this _predictable?"

"Are you feeling better?" he asks.

I open my mouth to say _No_, _as a matter of fact I'm not and I'm going to pack my bags and move to Nova Scotia now, thank you very much,_ but I realize it's pointless so I just nod.

"Good," George says, standing up and offering me his hand. He helps me up and then moves over to the table and pulls out a chair that somehow managed to stay clean during the food coup.

"Sit down for a minute," he says, practically forcing me into the chair. I limply fall into it. George brushes off the chef's hat and puts it on his own head. He looks like an idiot. I say so.

"Thank you," he replies and draws out his wand.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up."

"_HOW?_" I can't help but blurt out. "It's the bloody Bermuda Triangle in here!"

"If it were the Bermuda Triangle," George says calmly, "all of this would have disappeared. And don't be a moron, Fred and I grew up here. This kitchen has seen far worse. Although," he added with a hint of mischief to his voice (he can't even stand to be decent for five minutes together), "I must say this is an impressive record even for you, Kates."

I bang my head on the table repeatedly until George casually flicks his wand and ribbons emerge out of nowhere tying me straight back to the chair.

"Hey!" I shout, but he ignores me as he views the room in various aspects through a frame he makes with his hands. Then, muttering something I can't hear and making a big flourish, the mess is gone in two seconds. The original recipe gathers together from where it hangs on the ceiling, slides down the wall, and returns to the bowl. The baked beans flow up from off the floor and the pot rights itself. The bits of ham come together and return to the oven, and the chicken salad is no longer plastered to the door. It looks exactly as it did when Mrs. Weasley left.

My mouth forms an "o."

Mrs. Weasley returned within the next few minutes and George took the hippogriff eggs from her before dismissing her from the kitchen, explaining that I had deputized him as Kitchen Assistant. She doesn't seem to notice I'm tied to a chair with ribbons, but when she leaves, George vanishes the restraints and together we make a very credible hippogriff egg omelet and then hide the previous attempt at my original recipe in Percy's shampoo bottle.

And the best part, Thoughts Book?

When we returned to the kitchen and George continued to monitor all the food, he served me up my very own bowl of steaming and delicious baked beans. And this time I did not burn my esophagus.

I sort of like George…mind you, I'm ignoring the fact that he didn't look the least bit surprised when he first appeared in the hellacious kitchen, but…yes. I sort of like him.

XxX


End file.
